Cops - Saving the World One Monkey at a TimeRecently I got a speeding ticket. It happens. I can't complain - I've been speeding for 12 years and this is only my 2nd one. I'll continue to speed and I'll continue to get caught. So it goes. I could turn this blog into a diatribe against the absolute waste of resources that Big Brother expends in setting up speed traps to save us from ourselves and perpetuate its own pathetic existence, but I won't.
Instead, I'd like to pay homage to the select few of the 5-0 that really stand out for being shining exemplars of complete douchebaggery. For these men and women in blue who get off by lording their power over those they "serve," I'm sure there's a mall somewhere waiting for you upon retirement. I bet you're just itching to bring your fists of justice down on a group of loitering teens.
I had the honor of meeting one of force's finest when I got pulled over this last time. I have a wonderful radar/laser detector, but it can't protect against "instant on" zaps from speed guns. When my detector lit up, I knew I was caught. Game over. I pulled over, got out my license and insurance card, and was fully prepared to accept my fate. However, Mr. State Trooper wasn't content to just give me a ticket. He apparently had some deep-seated anti-simian prejudice because all he could focus on were the sweet innocent monkeys that graced my dash board and hung from my rear view mirror.
I was not aware of this until he told me, but apparently I couldn't see out of my windshield because of the primate obstructions. The copper wouldn't let me leave until he was able to sadistically revel in seeing the monkey carcasses strewn on my car's floor. (BTW, the above photo was of course taken BEFORE this incident because I would never ever think about putting the monkeys back up.) I guess the cop had some superhuman pupil power because the 8 different electronic devices attached to his dashboard and windshield must not have obstructed his line of sight.
I was bitter about the experience, but I wanted to know let the State know that I was so totally over it when I sent in my guilty plea.
Yeah, I know it's immature. The phrase "tilting at windmills" comes to mind. So does "prodding the bear." I guess I still have remnants leftover from my anti-establishment teenage angst days. But it felt pretty darn good. I say it's worth the bench warrant that is sure to come my way.