August 1, 2000 -

We get a lot of calls from solicitors where I live, most of them just the same damn credit card company wanting to sign you up for another piece of soul-sucking plastic. These guys are easy to deal with, just say NO a few hundred times in a row until you hear a dial tone. The thing I have the biggest problem with is the ones who call wanting you to GIVE MONEY TO THE COPS. That's right, they need your dough for more guns and bulletproof vests. The shit they take from your paycheck every week isn't cutting it. What's worse, I've discovered that these aren't real cops calling you. They're PAID to sound like cops, but they work for a company called "Professionally Speaking", a telemarketing service. And what's worse, they're collecting money for an organization called "The Fraternal Order Of Police", the same ones who called for Ice-T's head because of his "Cop Killer" song a few years ago. The same ones who have publicly expressed their hatred for the band Rage Against The Machine.

You know what? I was scared to tell them I didn't want to give them money. I don't want to give my money to "The Fraternal Order" of ANYTHING. But I was afraid. I mean, these guys have my phone number. They already have my address. What happens if you say no? Do you go on a special list? If a cop didn't like me, how easy would it be to pull me over on my way home from work at 1:30 in the morning and shoot me in the face? Very easy. You know what most people do, right? They give the cops their donation, and they get a sticker in the mail to put on their car. An F.O.P. sticker that, one would guess, that tells the cops you're one of the good guys. You gave money, so maybe they won't pull you over for that illegal U-turn. Maybe. We don't know for sure, and that's how they hook you into giving over to the fake phone cops.

Most people I know are scared of the cops. They don't think of them as people who want to protect you, look out for your safety. They see them as the car sitting with its lights off on a dark road, facing the opposite direction of traffic, waiting to catch someone going 3 mph over the speed limit on an empty road at 2 a.m. when just around the corner, there's a guy getting stabbed to death behind the dumpster at Circle K.

Now just as a disclaimer, this has nothing to do with "good cops", the ones who are out to do the job and uphold the law, keep the peace, and make life easier. I think we're lucky that anyone wants such a dangerous job, so far be it from me to stand in the way. No, this is about those other guys. The cops who seem to just be out to fuck with people. And unfortunately, these cops are the ones I always seem to encounter. Here, then, is a story about how I was totally worked over by the man. We all got a few, some worse than others. So here's one of mine.

One night in the summer of 1994, I was driving home after an intense argument with my bitch girlfriend (I had a lot of those). I was crying, had the music up loud, and was about 2 miles from my house when my piece of shit car started driving funny (I had a lot of those too). I was just like fuck, what else can go wrong? I don't give a shit about anything, I'm almost home...if I can just make it home...

And then the ol' blue lights appeared in my rear view mirror.

I had no idea what the hell was up, but I was ready for anything. Nuclear war, a heart attack at 17, nothing would've surprised me at that point. I pulled onto my street and went to the curb. Cop gets out, comes up to my window and looks me right in the eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asks. I'm like, WHAT? I'm sure I looked like a crackhead. Tears in my eyes, red face, probably snot running down my shirt. Anyway, he tells me to step out of the car and look at it, so I do. Shit.

At some point on the way back from by bitch girlfriends's house, my tire had exploded. I'd been riding on the rim for the last half mile when I got pulled over. The cop said he noticed me because sparks were shooting all over the place around the back of my car. I looked at the wheel, it was fucked. There was nothing left of the tire except a few shreds of rubber. I'd made cole slaw out of my Goodyears.

I explained to the cop that I lived just down the road, not even a quarter mile, and I'd fix it in the morning. That's when he really got pissed off.

"I'm not going to be responsible if you lose control of this car and plow into someone that's parked on the street", he fumed, "or someone coming the other way."

He said, "NO!" and then got in his car and left me there. That was it. See you later, Officer Friendly. You know, I was named after Andy Griffith. Now THERE was a goddamn great cop. Fuck that guy. I went home even more shaken up than I'd been when I left my bitch girlfriend's house.

Only a few months later, a similar incident occurred, but I was on my way to work at around 5 in the afternoon. My shitty car (a different one this time) broke down in the far right lane during rush hour. I got out, people are honking, I'm a bit tense, sort of in distress. So I look over to my right, and there's a COP CAR on the side of the road just a few feet away. I run up there to get some help, but am horrified beyond belief at what I find. THERE IS A DUMMY IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT. That's right, just a cop car, no cop. I found out later that they put those things on the side of the road to keep people from speeding. Ain't that some shit? What if someone was trying to stab me and I was running for help? Shit, man. Shit. What's Lester without Willie Tyler? He's a goddamn dummy, that's what. This was Lester in a cop uniform, wearing a little hat.

As if I had to say it, don't give them your money. They won't buy more bulletproof vests, they'll buy more dummies! So don't be scared of the cops. It's their job to help you and keep you safe. Sometimes you'll win and others you'll lose, but if you abide by the law and don't fuck around, you just might be okay. Just don't try to reach for your wallet. Keep your hands where I can see 'em.

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