A Police Presence, Kind of Like A Fart

Sad to say, last night during the Mariners - Yankees Game, a man by the name of John Douchebag broke into my girlfriend's car. Smashed in the passenger window, mauled the dash in an attempt to make off with the stereo, and instead left with a handful of CDs. Hours of inconvenience, caused in a few moments, raising insurance rates for all of us. Oh yeah, and don't get me started on the Insurance Industry just yet.

Thievery Douche-ola didn't make off with nearly enough of my girlfriend's belongings to make worthwhile the hassles of getting a new window and all the paperwork handled. But she did call the police in order to get a report and a case number. From all accounts, the officer was a total dickhole.

I know that car burgles ain't all that exciting to cops. Got it. Mostly just paperwork and But this guy was a wad. I hope that it's not reflective of the police force as a whole. Sheesh, that guy's probably my counterpart on his job: Grumpy and Rumpled and ready to move on. But after the shit's gone down, he tells my girlfriend "You shouldn't leave stuff in your car." Thank you, Officer. Sorry to interrupt your shaking down of prostitutes.

That's right, people. Every crime enacted against you is your fault. I have forgotten that so many times. Every time I was bullied, my fault for making the bully mad. Every time a car was broken into, my fault for parking somewhere other than where I could stay up all night and stare at it. Every time a woman is followed into a dark alley, that whore... And every time your pension fund is raided, or your identity is stolen, or you are molested via e-mail... It is YOUR fault, and you must exact the proper measures so that NEVER AGAIN is the line you are in cut into by someone who feels they are the only person that matters.

Is it that the police are no longer "peace keepers?" They are Law Enforcement Officers, damn you, and will be respected as such. It is is VITAL to their well-being to treat every situation, from a cat stuck tree-ward to a drunken man firing a submachine gun at his adopted immigrant workforce children stuck tree-ward, the SAME. You MUST be in control. Show no compassion. Show no weakness. Show your mustache and flat-top. And speak in short sentences.

A police presence wouldn't stop crime, by the numbers. It would just flush it to other areas. The only thing that can stop crime is, quite simply, vigilante justice. Arm yourself with alarms, firearms, explosives, and cobras. Imagine that... somebody breaks into your house while you're at Eric Clapton's Rehab Island and all they hear is "ssssssssssss." Right until the SPROING! YEAH CRIMINIAL, YOU GOT A COBRA ON YOUR EYE!!! For many years I have wanted to create a car alarm system that reacts in the following way:
All electronics are wired to a main system that is dis-armed when the key is in the ignition. The main system is then wired to low-grade explosives or a flamethrower. If any item on the dashboard is disengaged from the BoomBoom-GL and the key is not in place... well... BLAM. The car blows up. Look, if you're gonna break into my car, let's have a f*cking SHOW. My insurance will go up $25 a quarter either way. Bye bye criminals.

Got any stories of dis-enchanted cops? Here's another one. Three years ago I'm at the stoplight at Denny and Westlake, behind two cruisers, side by side. Heading Northbound, away from the station, I figure these guys are just on-shift at 10pm. They're talking out their windows to each other. The light turns green, they chat a few seconds more as a MiniVan RUNS the red light heading East, right in front of the cops. They watch the MV, look at each other, shrug, and carry on. No harm, no foul, I guess.

Let's hear your stories of police officers wrapped up in being a Cop more than being a helpful person in the public eye.
Police are not the enemy, they are people who have to make decisions about whether to shoot or beat the minority first, then assess the situation. What are we gonna do?

However, they maced, gassed, and beat living hell out of the Hippies back around the WTO situation, so they've got that going for them. Oh, and crowning the meatheads during the Seattle Mardi Gras melee was STELLAR, although their presence didn't help for that young man who was beaten to death.

I'm gonna need a good lawyer.
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REVIEW OF... Star Wars III: The End Of The Beginning

I have to make this quick, because this nasally-clogged idjit a few seats away from mine is gale-force blowing tsnotsunamis one after the other. 10 seconds yielded 7 expulsions, one of which was most of my breakfast.

Last week I won passes to see the latest and lastest Star Wars movie, Star Wars III: The Chronic '05 Fah Tha Streetz. I admit that I have not seen the previous 2 movies, which I heard were horrible. I was hoping I could follow along.

I won the passes through work, as did a lot of folks. Nothing makes a person feel good about themselves quite like the sight of their co-workers miserable lives. Nobody dressed up like Star Wars characters. A few people dressed up like boring assholes. Nobody appreciated my Vulcan ears and nerve pinchings. Married couples stared off into space. A girl showed a lot of cleavage because her gut stretched her shirt downward with gusto and beer. The woman... yeah, woman to my left nearing not only the 500lb mark, but also the 6'6" mark. Pro-wrestler size, wow. It was awesome.

Before we could even get into the theater we were required to leave all cell phones in the car. No audio capabilities, no picture-phoning. This was good because most of my carrier's phones don't work indoors. Still, had to take the phone to the car. After the movie, in the restroom, a guy who sat a row behind me was on his phone while having a wizz, so security was great.

A director of another department spoke prior to the movie to let us know about how, a year ago, her team flew to the Skywalker Ranch to discuss a branding tie-in with this latest Star Wars movie. Skywalker Ranch was also going to be a salad dressing, but no real Star Wars fan is going to put salad dressing on their Darth Bugles nor their Obi Wan Kenoodles, nor anywhere near a vegetable. Dang, another $2,000,000 into the escape hatch. Moving on, the director lady said "It is because of your work in the past year that our promotion has gone so well. Without you, we could never have done this." No, I'm pretty sure it would have gotten done without my spreadsheets, seeing as how that woman could have been a paid extra in a bad suit and frizzy hair-don't and I wouldn't have been the wiser.

Then we watched the movie. The Wookiees are kick-ass but don't get enough screen time. The low-points of the movie include any moment where the guy playing Anakin Skywalker is talking to Natalie Portman instead of eating food off of her, and needing to take a squirt with 30 minutes left. I'll give it away to you right now...
The movie just ENDS. Done. What about all the other people? Where the hell is the Darth guy, and the emporer who looks like the Queen of England? ZERO friggin' resolution to this movie, other than General Grievous dying and the cameo of a very green, very Jewish Woody Allen.

This movie is SHIT.

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What I Meant To Blog Was...

I have figured out why I dislike hearing people talk on their cell phones in public, and why I, too, hate doing so.

If you have a vital conversation you find a place that is quiet, isolated from noise so that you don't miss any of the info that's going on.

A couple weeks ago on the way home from Spokane, sitting at the gate in airplane-waiting position, a gal sat behind me jabbering at top volume. She also had a nervous tic that made her look like a yawning dog, and was ill enough to be snorking back snot like it was cut on a mirror at Studio 54. She was telling somebody on the other end "At the airport... gate C... ten minutes... about 15... we leave in an hour... I think it's a double prop plane." Uh, hey... maybe giving coordinates of the plane and a passenger list would suit her better. And holy moly, what a dynamic personality! Mark my words, pretty soon, for the sake of security, the Transportation Safety Administration is going to outlaw the use of cell phones once you get past security, because I'll have been shoving phones ass-bound.

But every other cellphone conversation that I am thrown under is usually just an exercise in banality. Whenever possible, I'm going to follow people on cell phones in public, pull out a small notepad, and write down everything they say.

What? Invasion of privacy? Nope, sorry, it's a public place, ladies bathroom or not.
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General Mayhem & Captain Grunderflaps

This evening, the Princess and Count Braapula (me) are taking the X-Wing (1999 Chrysler Cirkus) to a sneak-preview of "STAR WARS III: This Space for Rent" down in Redmond, WA. The past 10 years has taken Redmond from "The New Silicon Valley" to "Nerds With Benefits Highlands." I won the tickets through a drawing at work, and I doubt we have the entire theater just for members of the Blob a l'Orange gang. This shouldn't stop anyone from wearing doing "The Robot" while asking where "R2 has gotten off to."

In the meantime, when you hear reports of somebody walking around doing a "Vulcan nerve grip" on annoyed patrons, think of me.

Tommorrow's blog! Full review of Star Wars III: Bigger & Blacker, complete with awards for biggest dork, coolest hair, and loudest Wookiee growl (which is actually just a bear).

Oh, and this one ain't got no Ewoks, so NYEAH!

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Juxtaperspective

First up, to those who have left comments, thank you for reading and input. It's cool that this little blogosphere is connected to people.
I did check out www.jacksonayala.com, a slickly intertwined 'podge of ideas, pics, quotes, and the Not But Should Be Famous "Crazy Black Names." I offer up the name of an offensive tackle on the Virginia Cavaliers, Mr. D'Brickashaw Ferguson. Am I lying? Also, Jackson's quotes & bio page notes range from Dave Attell to Sophocles to Farrakhan, and just when you think it's time to get all up in your own ass about what he means by putting all these crazy things out there for y'all to read... he quotes Popeye. So take a breath and relax. He hates blogs, by the way.

I should be asleep, by the way.

A few times while blog-a-blog-blog-blogging away here I've used the term "perspective." I refer to it's importance as a tool that helps you appreciate what you have, see, or are experiencing. Perspective, which I guess could go Snap-On (not an endorsement) with "Juxtaposition." It's the Bizzarro world you are living in, the Parallel Universe where the Atkins Diet is a fast and Carson Daly was dumpster-jobbed at birth.

Why are Perspective and Juxtaposition important? First off, they'll be tabbed P&J from here on out. Second, P&J are important to help me appreciate what I have going. The ability to see the FlipSide is invaluable to me in many situations. If I'm down to my last $5,000 in checking, fretting, sweating, well heck, I COULD be down to my last $4,000... or $209. Or -$209 AFTER the payday loan. So I should appreciate and take care of what I have, because it could be worse.
This is a good thing to have in a relationship, too. I know a guy who is married, and, more or less, is a neanderthal with a driver's license. Let's call him Larry. I dated a gal who is a friend of his, and she once said "You're really kind of sensitive sometimes." But she didn't mean it like I get my feelings hurt easily. She meant it like "you can be a puss... sometimes." She clarified that for me right after the first comment. I cocked my head and said, with a smile, mind you, "Sometimes, yes, I can be. Sorry bitch. I can Larry it up for you, bitch, if you f*cking want me to." She got the point, but I had to point it out for her, because she had no perspective of chivalry. Gosh, ask permission before putting in the thumb and all good deeds hit pot-bottom.

Moderately autobiographical, some embellishment, you know what I'm getting at. Things could be worse. Things could be better. So what will I gravitate to? I'm trying to stay as positive as I can, ignoring the fire but letting the heat push me forward to cooler times, and laying off the flammable underwear. But still, there are times when being brutally honest and forthcoming is expected and rewarded, and I'll take those opportunities on with all the gusto of a fourth date, and we all know what happens on the fourth date. All I'm saying... BBQ Sauce.

Y'ever realize that the kid in the corner yelling about how he's leaving and doesn't want to be looked just wants attention, then you realize it's not a kid at all, but a full grown adult and you stop caring what they're yelling about and instead just go about your business and then you realize, WOW, you're really better off ignoring all the yelling in the corners? Yeah, me neither.


That's my time everyone, thanks for stopping by. This microphone smells like streetjokes.

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Headline Monday

All Thanks Be To The Highest of Love And Creation!!!
"Everybody Loves Raymond" is going off the air. Did anybody even watch that sack of shit show? I watched a total of 3 minutes in the 28 years it's been on TV. Unfunny is unfunny, which is exactly what unchallenged America loves.

Comedy Recap:
Telling young teens the truth is always a good way to start a set

Television Recap:
Next week's Season Finales of "Housewives" and "Grey's Anatomy" to be uninterrupted by phone calls and bathroom breaks

Chappelle Speaks!:
From his South Africa retreat, Chappelle gives remarks on stress, drive, money, and how he'll surely have enough material for a few more episodes

Chivalry Is Alive, Women Don't Get It:
Chivalry is always in style, as is being respectful - Perspective is the polishing rag of human interaction

How To Screw A Waiter:
...who is trying to screw your date

News to follow. Good Monday Morning, Monkies!
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