…Everyone’s favorite, boyishly charming, and HUMBLE singer is back…
I’ve decided to type some more of my inconsequential bullshit online again (to no avail, I’m sure), and I think I’ll include some personal anecdotes, as this damnable boredom has finally eaten away at my insides.
So this is MY soliloquy; MY aimless inner-monologue; both introspective and retrospective; but what if someone ACTUALLY reads it? I suppose I have to find some way to include the reader…So, reader, how about a question? Not that one, it’s coming up. If you’re a ‘punk’ it’s a no-brainer; if not, just think for a second, it’s STILL a no-brainer. And maybe I’ll have some Aesopian morals, give YOU something to reflect on…
Q: What do most ‘punks’ hate more than their oppressive, short-sighted governments?
A: Self-righteous, power-hungry, henchmen who uphold the government’s ridiculous laws. The droves of Homunculi issued badges, armed with a cadre of weapons used to scare us into subordination, and licensed to kill. That’s right! The keepers of peace…THE COPS!
So what’s the relevance? Why cops? Well, these ‘peace officers’ are notorious all over the world for their abuse of power, scare-tactics, and general debasement of the civilians they swore to ‘serve and protect’; of course, some places are FAR worse than others, America not likely being anywhere near horrible. But in a land founded on civil rights and liberty from tyranny, I think things have gotten WAY out of hand. What gives Officer Fuckhead the right to mace you because he feels threatened? Could you turn it around and mace HIM if YOU felt threatened? Not unless you like being shocked into paralysis and subsequently beaten. That’s not equality…that’s tyranny.
But enough of the tyranny talk, there’s enough of that already. I plan on sharing a few stories about my continuous run-ins with a particular officer (whose arrogance, bully mentality, and self-righteous bullshit couldn’t mask his incompetence). These encounters happened between spring 2005 and spring 2007 (approximately).
I first met Officer “T” (why would I risk incriminating myself by putting his name?) in my senior year of high school on a domestic disturbance call. My sibling and I got into a fist fight, where I was hit in the eye with a cordless phone, which was then used to call the cops on me, hahaha! “Colton P.D.’s Finest” and I definitely got off on the wrong foot when he responded to the call, because apparently I didn’t have the right to walk unless he said so. As I stepped outside to answer his preliminary interrogation bullshit, our stupid dog got out, so I started walking after the dog. Now, if I intend to do something, I’m going to do it (or at least try), but apparently my “life, liberty and pursuit of happiness” could be repealed at his discretion. I calmly explained to him that I was going to get my dog, and I started walking, but he stepped in front of me and responded with, “Don’t move”. WHY THE FUCK WOULD I STOP WALKING?! I’m not a fucking dog! I learned how to walk at a young age, and people proved fairly easy to walk around, so I started to walk around him and I repeated myself. Well, I guess that justified the use of excessive force, because he charged me from behind and slammed me into a nearby car, putting me into a hammerlock and wrenching my arm. This 180+lb. cop felt the need to hammerlock and body slam an 18 year old, 140lb. kid. That’s definitely NOT first date behavior. Then, as if adding insult to injury, I’m sitting in the squad car, cuffed and half-naked, and that GODDAMNED DOG comes strolling up to the car! Apparently, Officer T took intermediate asshole classes at the academy, because he opened the car door and said, “You can get your dog now,” wearing the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen. Some things tend to be difficult when your hands are behind your back. Anyway, the moral of THIS part of the story is…Don’t open the door to the cops; if you DO, have running shoes on or pretend to be handicapped.
After that night, it seemed as though Officer T was intent on getting me back for disrespecting him, because he began patrolling around any house I was living in (and my family and I moved quite a bit). He continuously busted my siblings for ditching school, and my mother for driving without a license. Needless to say, at this point we were all a little fed up with the harassment. Fortunately, his ability to perform as a cop was overshadowed by his amazing stupidity. A few months later, after the harassment died down a little, I was driving around with a friend and what should we see sitting by a stop sign? It seemed that my family’s policeman stalker was too busy belittling traffic violators to notice that he had dropped his brand-new, police-issue ticket book, complete with a Vehicle Code Book, a nearly-full pad of tickets, and his name and badge number. Well, I’d say that for a rookie cop, that could be very damaging to your career. HAHAHAHAHA! So what do you do with a book of new tickets? You start filling out bullshit tickets and leaving them on your friend’s cars! Revenge is a beautiful thing, but laughing about it is FAR more satisfying! And what’s the moral of this part? It’s not much of a moral but…Sometimes you SHOULD pick strange things up off the ground, but you should ALWAYS look around to make sure YOU didn’t drop something.
Roughly a year after our first meeting, in May of 2006, he managed to fuck things up for me again. On our way home from seeing O.C. ‘punk’ band D.I. play at “Lyrics”, in San Bernardino, a couple of friends, the rest of the band, and myself decided to cause a little collateral damage to some yuppies in Highland. If you want to have a good time with your friends, I’ve heard some people grab baseball bats and smash the side-mirrors on some dumb, rich kid’s giant truck (the driver-side windows and windshield are probably a little more challenging). If this WERE to be done, wooden bats would probably work best, and a good driver couldn’t hurt. Unfortunately, a couple of hillbilly bros were up at 3a.m. and decided to follow us. After a lengthy chase (in which we lost our pursuers) we headed home, where we we’re spotted by friends of the victims. A local cop managed to cut this second chase short and immediately arrested us for vandalism (where we sat on a curb, handcuffed for 4 hours, after being identified). Well who should be the arresting officer but good old Fuckhead! And he had a damn good time berating four ‘punks’ who were handcuffed, and couldn’t defend themselves. He pulled out all the insults he could think of (and with such a limited intelligence it was quite impressive), among them were:
“So what I see is a bunch of emo-kids with tight pants and bats, who are ignored by their parents so they go out smashing other people’s things to get attention.”
“Those pants are pretty tight. What are you guys, faggots or something?”
“So do guys put on make-up too? That’s pretty gay.”
“I hope you guys know you’re going to jail. You don’t get to go home to your nice, warm bed tonight.”
By the time the Riverside Sheriffs showed up, 4 hours later, all I could do was look at him and laugh. It was obvious at this point that he was picked on in school by punks, jocks, etc. and finally found a way to ‘get back at the world’; he could finally get a hard-on. He left with that same satisfied grin on his face and we did our dance with the Riverside Sheriff and went to jail. This is the simplest moral of all…If you’re going to do something illegal, make sure you have a good getaway driver and an even better alibi.
That was the last time I would have to look at that fuck, but he got one last shot at fucking my family over, ruining his career in Colton in the process. Yet another year passed without much going on (probation kind of ruins the fun), then one night in May of 2007, “The Defender of Justice, The Invincible Officer T”, finally got his catch. He managed to pull my mom over for Driving Under the Influence, Driving on a Suspended License, and Child Endangerment, and I can only imagine his excitement at finally getting one of us so badly. Though I know his excitement didn’t last long. While being held at the Police Station, my mom not only found out that the arrogant, incessant asshole was having trouble at home because of his sexual inadequacy, but she blatantly taunted him about losing his ticket-book in front of a ranking sergeant, who attempted to strike a deal to get the book back. Not only was he belittled by his fellow officers for several more hours (and likely for the remainder of his employment there), but was shortly thereafter fired. The man’s career was ruined all because he was an incompetent asshole more interesting in talking shit to defenseless civilians than doing his job protecting them. The final moral is open to interpretation, and this is mine…The hunger for power can never be sated; the more you feed it, the more you starve.
Every day, we’re terrorized by these one-dimensional, power-hungry bullies…these home-grown terrorists trained at OUR expense to exploit OUR ignorance and fear; because those in power strive to STAY in power, at any cost. No rebellion can ever hope to quell the struggle through force; we are ruled by those who think OUTWARDLY, who are preoccupied with the SUPERFICIAL, and define themselves by their power to rule over others. Force is THEIR game; strength is OURS. Unfortunately, all governed peoples are victims of the same unacknowledged crime: The plight of the many is of no concern to the might of the few. All we can hope for is that the people in power will keep making mistakes, and give us something to laugh at while we’re digging our graves. Finding humor in the face of despair is our strength.
“Mastering others requires force; mastering the self needs strength”. –Lao Tzu, “The Tao Te Ching”
This is me speaking my mind, and I doubt my band mates agree with me (either completely or in part), but we all recognize the power of speaking your mind, even if others don’t like it. Music is a medium for expression…demanding a fee for our personal thoughts is ludicrous…help us support independent music.
Freedom and Music…Freedom OF Music…
Well, if you sat through all that, bravo! Now that you’ve read my rambling, you could head over to the myspace and leave a hate message or something… www.myspace.com/theprostitutesie