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The Turd Burglar

Usually, I get to Starbucks and then things happen.

But today, everything started without me. 

When I got to Starbucks, the police had been there for awhile. 

Nobody got hurt, but it was an odd little shit show for a brief period.

Now, I am not one to judge…..

Ok, even I can’t bullshit that one, I am nothing but judgement. 

I think I would be happier if I could add jury and executioner to the list. 

But let me continue. 

In my completely unbiased opinion, the tweaker piece of shit in the back of the patrol car was not a good looking guy before he discovered his deep and abiding love of meth.

Let’s call him El Diablo.

The broken table I am still trying to figure out.

The urine on the sidewalk is also a mystery. 

According to several people who responded to my inquiry of – “What the hell was that?”

  • El Diablo was briefly in line at the cashier and was “Gacking bad”. (Still Googling that one, no clue.)
  • El Diablo may or may not have had his dick hanging out. (The couple that told me this are split on this. She says no, he says yes. My opinion? Why is he checking out El Diablo’s package?)
  • El Diablo (Let’s jump the gun and just call him The Suspect, shall we?) anyway, the Suspect then knocked  over a display of expensive coffee beans, then began screaming and cursing until the police arrived. (Actually, it was just a display of coffee beans, they are all expensive. When was the last time someone said “I can’t believe how cheap coffee is these days.?”)
  • The Suspect, when officers were taking him to the car, stopped in one spot on the sidewalk, refused to move, then pissed himself. (This is one of the greatest protest moves ever. Kind of like a karmic “You can’t fire me, I quit!”)

Police officers are notoriously closed mouthed about what goes on when they are investigating something.

However, you catch the right cops on the right day…

I walked by two cops laughing quietly off to the side. 

“So I told him that if he has any drugs on him, its a felony to take them into the station. He immediately ponies up that he has a baggy up his ass. I ask why, and he says – I always keep my drugs in my ass, then I can’t be robbed!” (This sentence is just wrong. I keep looking at it to see if there is spelling or grammar issues. There are none, my mind is just balking at the content.)

Then the other cop’s reply made my day.

“Except by the turd burglar!” 

Oh my God.

I almost pissed the sidewalk myself.

Take him away boys.

 
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Posted by on October 14, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Whatcha gonna do?

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”
― Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You’ll Go!

Dr. Seuss forgot one part.

Unless of course, you get a snoot full of meth.

Its not as flowery or even comes close to rhyming like the legendary prose of the good doctor, but there is a nasty little snatch of truth in it.

So why am I trotting out the wraith of Seuss?

Because the tv show Cops is real.

Let me explain.

I got a an activity tracker a few months ago.

It has gotten me into the guilty habit of coming to the end of my day, realizing that I have not done anything for my health, made me feel bad that I refuse to go jogging, so I go on 5-10 mile walks.

But where do you walk to, you ask?

Somewhere to write.
I pick Starbucks that are a good stretch of the legs and hit the road.

And it worked.

In a couple of months, I have logged 1 million steps.

What does that have to do with Dr. Seuss?

Be patient, I am getting there.

I also suffer from ADD.

I get bored easy, so going to the same Starbucks all the time goes stale pretty quick.

Which leads us to today.

I have been walking for over an hour and I am now less than a mile from my chosen destination.

And I am sitting at the side of the road on a low wall watching the decay of modern society.

The cameras are not here, but this is an episode of Cops, I am sure of it.

Mom is in a bathrobe, chain smoking and alternating between screaming at the cops and crying and trying to comfort Joey. (Not my mom, of course. She stopped smoking decades ago, and you could not get her outside in a bathrobe without makeup unless you put a gun to her head. Even then, she may just take the bullet, mom likes things just so.)

Back to Joey.

Joey, is her little pride and joy.

At least, he was about 25 years ago, now he is a drugged out mullet wearing handcuffs and sweating like he is in a sauna.

And if you really wanted to wrestle with the police, why would you wait until you are handcuffed and surrounded.

Joey loves a challenge, evidently.

I really love police dogs.

They are almost always German Shepherds, one of my top 3 favorite breeds. (The other 2 are Irish WolfHound’s and Shih tzu’s)

The police dog is really wanting in on the fun here, but he is being barely restrained by a large cop no doubt with a heart of gold.

[[ADD SIDEBAR]] The Starbucks I am in stopped playing self indulgent Lillithfair crap music and played a 4 pack of Run DMC. They were the shit. [[END]]

Where was I?

Ah, my disappointment that there was no meth head mauling by the big puppy.

Now, you can screech at me all you like about this next line, but you are still wrong.

Joey did this to himself.

Meth and ignorance are a personal choice.

You’re goddam right I said it.

Its a disease, you whine.

Polio is a disease.

Meth is a personal choice made up of equal parts ignorance, lack of faith (In God and self) and poor parenting.

Personally I feel there is a lack of Irish genealogy here, but I cannot find the science to back that up.

“Are you happy now, mom?!?!” Joey yelled this as he was leaning across the hood of the patrol for the pat down.

Let me answer for mom.

No, no she isn’t, probably hasn’t been happy for a long time.

I read somewhere, “At any moment before you enter the gates of hell, you can change your luck.”

I have always felt there was a part of that missing.

You can change your luck, but only if you know you can.

I am going to jump out on a limb here and say that mom and Joey have no clue.

More’s the pity.

 
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Posted by on April 8, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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