CCBI Stupidity

The City County Bureau of Identification is where cops process arrestee's. Like any other government agency, it is fraught with mismanagement and waste. But the employees work very hard, so I'm not trying to bash them.

This weekend I spent nearly twenty hours waiting on prisoners to be finished with processing. The reason for this is on weekends police make high numbers of arrests. But CCBI is under-staffed. The genius that devised their schedule has the same amount of processing agents working on Monday morning as they do on weekend nights, when the place is overrun with drunk drivers.

If this were a position in the private sector they would fire the manager for incompetence. But because it is a government position, and they are not fiscally rewarded for good management, this clown continues to occupy the position. And we continue to get answers like, "Upper management is aware of the situation and will address it soon."

Arresting the Victim

I responded to a stabbing call recently in which a Mexican male had been slashed across the hand during a drunken party fight. The wound was minor, and in his inebriated condition he didn't seem to feel it. I asked for some form of identification to use for the police report. He responded by telling me he was an illegal immigrant and didn't have a license to drive.

I assisted in locating, chasing down, and arresting the suspect. After this I gave the victim his case report number and bid him a good night.

Later, maybe thirty minutes later, I saw the victim driving away on Deep Hollow Drive. He ran a stop sign and I couldn't help but remember he had no license and was quite drunk at the scene. I could barely believe he was that stupid. No, I take that back. I can completely believe he, and most every other drunk driver/criminal, are that stupid.

I arrested him for drunk driving. He was booked and photographed. Two days later I was contacted by I.C.E. Evidently they decided to ship him back to Mexico... express delivery.

Cursed by God

Years ago myself and another officer stopped an older lady for a traffic violation. She was quite upset with the ticket I gave her and screamed, "I rebuke you in the name of the Lord!" Then, she glanced back at my partner who, until this point had said nothing to her, merely standing at the passenger side of my patrol car waiting for me to finish, and says, "and that officer too!" He threw his hands up in confusion and giggled, "What did I do?" The old lady sped off, furious.

I never thought I'd be in this position again. But the other night it happened.

I was leaving Eagle's gas station when my exit was completely blocked by a small blue car, sitting idle, at the rear of the store where Marvino Lane intersects the driveway. I assumed the car would move, but after nearly an entire minute passed with no traffic blocking the car's route, I honked my horn. The driver fidgeted around in the car and then turned right, the front left tires of the car crossing the double yellow lines. I suspected the driver might be under the influence of alcohol. I followed and noticed the driver was weaving in the lane. I turned on my blue lights on and stopped the car.

Upon approaching the driver I realized she was not drunk. She was a massive black woman. Balanced on her lap was a Bojangles biscuit (I'm almost certain it was a fatback biscuit) and a cup of tea. So she had stopped in the middle of the intersection, blocking everyone else's movement, to eat!

"Why did you stop me, officer?"

"You were blocking the lane back at the gas station. And you were driving in an erratic manner."

"I was not! What is your name?"

I'm always surprised when people think the best way to speak to an officer is to be confrontational. "Corporal Hines, mam. I need your license and registration."

She gives it to me and then says. "I wasn't blocking the intersection. I am diabetic and I needed to get something on my stomach."

"You couldn't have pulled into a parking space to eat? You drove all the way from the Bojangles with your food, so I know you passed quite a few."

"I don't think you pulled me because of my driving. I think you pulled me because I'm African American. That's why you pulled me over!"

"Wait right here, mam," I tell her. I walk back to my car and write her a ticket for unsafe driving. I then return and give it to her.

"You've got to be kidding me! You're a racist!"

I ignore her comments and explain the court process to her. She tries to argue the specifics of the ticket and I tell her she can debate it in court. I then walk back to my car. As I get ready to sit down she rolls out of the driver seat and I see the car rise at least four inches.

"I'm going to call Mike Easley's office on you! You'll be lucky to keep your job."

I just stand there ignoring her lunacy.

"Barack Obama is going to get elected. Then all this is going to change." She giggles madly. "You don't like that, do you? Barack Obama. Barack Obama. You don't like me saying his name do you? What are you going to do when he's elected?"

"I voted for him in the primary," I said.

She looked as if the wind had been pulled from her sail, although she was much larger than any boat I've seen. Maybe if she quit stuffing her face with biscuits, she wouldn't have to take insulin.

"I know who will get you, officer," she spat. "God will judge you! You will stand before him and he'll set you straight. In fact, I curse you! I curse you in God's name!" Her face twisted for a moment, possibly the realization that she'd finally lost her mind. "Maybe I shouldn't say that," she says. "But you'll get yours!"

Finally she sat her fat ass back inside the car and sped off, muttering. I can only imagine some poor guy that had to listen to her incessant rambling for the next two hours after she got home. I'm sure that guy curses me as well.

Black Hole of Stupidity

Texas County Official Sees Race in Term 'Black Hole'
Friday, July 11, 2008

Dallas County Commissioner John Wiley Price
DALLAS — What do "black hole," "angel food cake," and "devil's food cake" have in common?
They're all racist terms, says a Dallas County, Texas, official. A county commissioners' meeting this week over traffic tickets turned into a tense discussion over race when one commissioner said the county's collections office was like a certain astronomical phenomenon.

"It sounds like Central Collections has become a black hole," Commissioner Kenneth Mayfield, who is white, said during the Monday meeting. One black official demanded an apology, and Commissioner John Wiley Price, who also is black, said that type of language is unacceptable.
At the meeting, Mayfield said he intended his comments to be taken in the context of the scientific meaning, and became upset that he was being misunderstood. In astronomy, the term black hole refers to a star that has collapsed upon itself, creating something so dense and small that it does not have any physical properties besides a gravitational force so great that even light cannot escape its pull.

Later, Price told MyFOX.com that he believed it and other terms were racist.
"So if it's 'angel food cake,' it's white. If it's 'devil's food cake,' it's black. If you're the 'black sheep of the family,' then you gotta be bad, you know. 'White sheep,' you're okay. You know?" Price said. Price said people should watch their words when it comes to stereotypes.
"I think people should always be careful. You know, I'm okay if I'm 'bartering' with you. ... But if I try to 'Jew you down,' Oooooh. Is that racist? I thought it meant the same thing? No, maybe it doesn't."

The world-renowned physicist Stephen Hawking might have a solution to the problem over perception of the astronomical term. He refers to the phenomenon as "a singularity."

I'd really like to understand how 'black hole' is racist. The man was comparing the city's poor accounting practices to a collapsed star that, due to having immense gravitational pull, sucks everything in. It's an excellent comparison. It is called a black hole because the gravity is so strong not even light escapes. Not because astrophysicist's are racist. Look at this guy's picture. It's quite clear he's using race to avoid the issue.

"Where's all the money going, John? Did it get sucked into a black hole?"

"Black? Did you say black? Now I don't have to answer the question. I can simply call you a racist and spend the next few weeks posturing and acting like a fool."

P.T.S.D.

I got a call at a local Yoga gym. That's right, a call at a Yoga gym involving some sort of disturbance. I'm not making this up! Evidently, the owner of the facility didn't want one of the students to come back after an altercation. I arrive and meet the owner at the door. While I'm speaking to him I can't help but notice a woman hurriedly walking toward us. She's wearing the most god-awful outfit a human could put together. She has some sort of flimsy summer hat pulled down over her head almost to the eyebrow, sitting just above a pair of gigantic sunglasses that would have made Corey Hart jealous.

"Officer, I need to speak with you."

"I'll hear your side in a moment, mam."

"No, I need to talk first."

"Mam, I'll be with you in a minute." We shut the door so the business owner can explain what happened.

She opens the door and sticks her head in. "I want to hear what you guys are saying about me, officer. I have a constitutional right to hear."

"No, you don't," I tell her. "He doesn't want you on his property. So you have to wait out there."
She smacks her lips loudly and shuts the door.

The owner tells me he teaches the Yoga classes himself. He says he doesn't actually do the poses, but walks around aiding the students with technique. He says the crazy hat woman joined the class several months before and, for no good reason, wore gigantic hats to the class. They practice Yoga in a 105 degree sauna. Wearing a restrictive hat would trap heat in her body and endanger her. He asked her to stop wearing the hat. She protested, but eventually agreed to stop wearing it. Then, upon being approached by complaining students, he had to speak to her again. She must smoke like a chimney and, when exercising in a 105 degree sauna, the smell of cigarettes becomes overwhelming. So he asked her to not smoke before coming.

Everything went well for one month. But then a day before this altercation she showed up for class wearing a Sombrero and smelling like a Marlboro. He asked her to leave and she threw a tantrum, cursing him out in front of the class and threatening to sue.

At this point I spoke with her. I couldn't even get a word out before she started unwrapping.

"I have P.T.S.D. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I'm a rape victim!"

"What does that have to do with today?" I ask.

"He bullied and intimidated me. I want him arrested. And I want him to refund all my money immediately."

"The money is a civil matter, mam. But he is a business owner and doesn't want you on his property anymore. So I have to trespass you."

"But I'm a victim. I'm a rape victim. I have P.T.S.D. He should have to go to a class on P.T.S.D."

"No, he shouldn't," I say. "You should just stay away from the Yoga studio. Maybe buy some DVD's or pick it up on cable. But no more coming here. Got it?"

"I understand. I'm going to sue him for violating my civil rights. And I'm going to sue the police department for aiding in the intimidation and disrespect of a private citizen who has P.T.S.D."

Then she shimmied down the sidewalk with a hand on her ridiculous hat. Several patrons of a nearby eating establishment were watching and shaking their heads from side to side as if to say, "We're sorry you have to deal with that."

Conversation With A Killer

I booked a murderer two days ago. Evidently, after learning one of his girlfriends (I say one because he told me he has lots of women, but no personal attachment) was pregnant. According to his charges, he murdered the girl by shooting her in the head. During our conversation I learned about the way he perceives the world.

First he told me he had four children by four different women and was unemployed. I asked him where he worked.

"I'm unemployed. I was trying to get on unemployment," he said.

"How do you afford so many kids?"

"It ain't like that," he replied.

"Like what?"

"I don't pay child support. We still friends," he said, smiling as if I didn't understand the way our civilization works. "You see, if you stay friends with the baby's mama, you don't have to pay. So I make sure to visit mines at least once a month. That way the mama ain't mad and I don't pay no child support."

This guy's 23, unemployed, and has four kids (would have been five but he went ahead and aborted both child and mother).

"So you don't feel responsible for the kids in any way?"

"Naw," he said, laughing. "The mama take care of the baby."

A short time later he further revealed how ignorant a human can be. He is charged with Capital Murder, a crime punishable by death. But he quite seriously asks, "Do you think they'll give me house arrest? I want to chill out for a while before the trial."

"House arrest for murder?" I replied trying not to laugh. "I doubt it."

"What about a lie detector?" He asked. "If I pass a lie detector will I get off?"

Facetiously I respond, "Some sociopaths can beat lie detectors."

He has no idea I'm being sarcastic, just sitting there with a blank stare. It's a damn shame we have to waste tax money keeping this guy alive.

Profit Ministry

I was scrolling through the channels this morning while having my first cup of java when I stumbled upon a fat black preacher. He was trying to convince his congregation that wanting money is okay by God. His line of rationalization was that, and I quote, "We are just taking the money back from the sinners. You see, folks, the money was ours to begin with. God wants us to have the money!"

Several times he smiled at the camera and said, "I love money. I want all the money to come my way."

Evidently he ignored the scripture that suggests its easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Personally, I don't believe any of this crap, but if you profess to be all "righteous," seems you might actually follow the doctrine of Jesus. He said to give up all your possessions and follow him to salvation. There I go again, quoting passages I believe are horseshit.

Nobody Cares

The kid is passed out on a display swing two feet from the entrance of Harris Teeter. His head is slumped over and his tongue hangs out. Hundreds of people walk past, but nobody cares. The manager sees him in the chair and pays little attention. Six hours later she walks out and sees he is in the exact same position. Now she fears he's dead.

EMS get the kid awake. His pupils are constricted and he's trying to explain to them that he's not on drugs and doesn't know how he passed out at the grocery store. He sees me approach. I recognize him. I've arrested him before....for selling and using unauthorized prescription medication. The last time I saw him he was lying in a ditch with his stupid friends. Their Jeep was burning, flames no less than twenty feet high, in the wrong lane of Leesville Road with a set of two hundred plus feet skid marks. They tried to tell me nothing happened. I wound up arresting the whole lot of them for first degree lunacy.

Today he sees me and stops his explanation. He just sits there with his stupid mouth open.

"Is he going to die?" I ask.

Nobody answers. The paramedics look confused.

"How much did you take, Ryan?" I ask.

"I...uh...didn't"

"Shut up," I interrupt. "How much did you take?"

"I took four pills. I was only supposed to take one. It was anxiety medication."

The paramedic looks pissed. "Then why are you lying to us. We're here to help you, man."

I leave immediately. If he wants to get blasted in the parking lot of Harris Teeter and spend the afternoon baking in the sun like a lizard, what do I care?

No License

I'm pulling into the Kangaroo Mart on Creedmoor Road. As I cruise up to the pumps I notice a black guy, his head wrapped in a do-rag, walking to a Jeep Cherokee. He sees my patrol car and suddenly looks like he's seen a ghost. He immediately turns away and quickly hops into the Jeep. His exit out of the parking lot couldn't have been faster but, unluckily enough for him, he failed to give a signal or come to a complete stop. And his behavior was like a beacon, "Stop my car! I don't have a license! I probably have warrants!"

I pull him over and he launches into a tirade. "Why did you pull me over? A black man can't drive without getting pulled over. "

I run his license and, of course, its suspended. Not only that, he's failed to appear in court thirty eight times before , so issuing him a ticket is a lesson in futility. He won' t come to court. I approach and ask him to get out of the car. As he pulls out his wallet a blunt wrapper falls out.

"Do you have any weed in the car?" I ask.

"Why would I have weed? Just because I'm black I smoke weed?"

"No, I just noticed you dropped your blunt wrapper on the ground."

"That ain't mine," he says, his face twisted into a snarl.

"Whatever," I say. Then I arrest him. While I'm searching the Jeep he calls his girlfriend. She shuffles up to the scene from their apartment, which is no more than one hundred yards from the store. She's thirteen months pregnant, sweating profusely, hyperventilating, and followed by a four year old girl. "Ya'll need to quit messing with him. He ain't done nothing. He was just going to the store to get a pack of Newports before I go to work."

Are you hearing this? The guy has a suspended license and numerous convictions for driving without a license. He's failed to appear in court thirty eight times so he knows if he gets arrested for driving he'll have a massive bond. But he's too lazy to walk one minute to the store. He'd risk everything to drive rather than walk.