Lost the Race

     I have never been skinny.  Now I run, I work out, I try to watch my weight, but I have never had that thin, runner's physic.  However, one night, I was on a stakeout with someone who did. 

 

     We had been getting reports of car prowls in a particular area, so Officer Tom and I decided that we would stake out the area, to catch some of these criminals.  We walked into a bin lot, where large fruit bins were stacked about ten feet high, intending to use the bins as a vantage point.  As soon as we walked between two rows of bins, we noticed a stack of stolen booty.  The crooks had evidently already been busy, and had been stashing their ill-gotten gains between the bins.  Knowing that the bad guys would be back for the stash, Tom and I climbed up onto the bins and waited. 

 

     Within 15 minutes, two guys walked into the narrow aisle and started picking up the stolen goods.  Tom and I leapt down off the bins, screaming like we were marauding Huns.  The two crooks took off running, with Tom and me in pursuit.  Now these crooks were somewhat of a reflection of Tom and me- one was stocky and slow, the other thin and fast.  Tom quickly outpaced me, being able to run much faster than I.  And who did he catch and take to the ground?  That's right, the slow fat one.  And who did I get to chase?  Correct again, the skinny fast guy. 

 

     After four blocks, the guy gave up, when a backup officer in a patrol car drove in front of him.  The final indignity is that the skinny-fast bad guy gets a ride in the patrol car (albeit in handcuffs), while I have to walk the entire four blocks back to Tom, who was resting comfortably on an apple box.  I wanted to say something witty and insulting to him for making me do all the running, but I just couldn't catch my breath.

 

Fifteen Seconds of Fame

A news gal came at me a few weeks ago, asking to do a story on a cold case. She was so excited about the story, she said, "This will be a REALLY long story, a HUGE segment on the news, it might last up to 2 minutes! You be the judge if I have what it takes to leave this 2-bit town and hit Hollywood.

Giving Up

     Most of the time when a very funny report crosses my desk, it's because some criminal has made a mockery of natural selection and redefined the term stupid.  However, every now and then it's not the crooks who make me giggle...

 

     A patrol officer was in a foot chase with some miscreant the other night.  Foot chases are always tough for cops; we are loaded down with guns, ammo, radio, bullet-proof vest, cool sunglasses, nightstick, cell phone, and two glazed donuts.  The guy actually out in front doing the felony two-step only has on him a sweatshirt, filthy jeans, a pair of shoplifted Adidas, and $60.00 worth of amphetamine coursing through his veins.  So the best we hope for is keeping the defendant in sight until the cavalry arrives. 

 

     Said bad guy (let's call him Freddy Felon) is running toward his own nearby house.  Freddy goes right into the front door and locks it behind him.  Not wanting to follow this guy into his own home without backup, the cop sets up a perimeter, which is quickly formed around the house.  Cops then spend about 15 minutes pounding on the doors and windows, demanding that Freddy come out and play; but there is no answer.  About an hour later, the patrol supervisor arrives on the scene with a warrant to search the home.  Because of the particularly violent history of Freddy Felon, the cops do not wish to risk their lives going in after him, and why should they?  CS gas is pumped into the house. 

 

     After delivering enough CS gas to clear Berkley University, Police finally enter and check.  With gas masks on, 5 cops search high and low in the house, pulling open cabinets, tipping over furniture to look underneath, but no suspect is found.  About 3 hours into the search, as things are winding down, one of the cops on perimeter hears a sound coming from the area of his car.  He looks and sees someone frantically pounding from inside the back of his patrol car.  He goes over, and there is Freddy Felon, seated in the back.  The cop opens the door and the guy screams, "What are you doing to my house!" 

 

     It seems that just before the perimeter guys arrived, Freddy went out the back door, right after he entered the front door, and hid in the back yard.  But as soon as all the police cars arrived, he knew that he would be found, so he surrendered to a police car, only to find the driver had already gotten out to help secure the house.  So he decided to sit in the back seat and wait for the officer to return.  He then watched the entire event unfold, kicking in his front door, tossing gas into his house, hearing all of the searching go on for the hours he sat there. Freddy spent the entire time yelling that he was in the police car, but no one could hear him, and police car rear doors cannot be opened from the inside. 

 

     Oops.

Declining Times

     You all know how much I try to keep this blog clean, and not  depend on “potty humor” to entertain.  However, this time it’s not about the humor, it’s about a decline in the very fabric of our culture.  

 

     As proud Americans (and a few proud Brits), we all want to have fresh, blue-tinted water in the head (or “loo” for those on the east side of the pond).  This is all about to change, and it’s the fault of the environmentalists.  That’s right; those people who are taking away our Hummers and making us scrounge through our trash like starving rats in order to “Recycle”.  

 

     Case in point: I was returning from teaching a sniper school a week or so ago (you can still do that with a shoulder injury) when I stopped for lunch.  Having eaten junk food during the entire week of field instruction, my… er… well, let’s just say that the train was finally moving and it was full.  I went to the one and only restroom in the business; completed the task, and then went to flush.  

 

     There was a sign over the toilet that said, “Environmentally Friendly” and in small print added, “The least water per  flush” (not sure if that was a boast or a warning).  I pulled the lever; there was the sound like that of a mouse sneezing, and nothing much happened.  The contents of the bowl did not go down the drain as is usual.  If anything, the “flush” (if you could call it that) just made it angry.  Then there was a knock at the door, the only other customer in the place wanted in.  I pulled the lever again; nothing happened.  Evidently the thing had to recharge; and there I was, in this bathroom pushing the lever like I was trying to start a Sopwith Camel.  I ended up running the sink for about 5 minutes until the toilet had enough pressure to make another attempt.  I washed my hands and ran out without looking at the result.  

 

     I have found the reason behind all the violence associated with eco-terrorism: all of the hemp-wearing granola-crunchers installed these things in their apartments… it would make me want to blow up something as well.