I have a morbid fascination with "Cops". I suppose it's because I can't believe that there are so many people out there who are so stupid, so blind, so sneaky, and so reckless of running afoul of the law.
I, myself, a generally law-abiding citizen, am terrified of the po-po.
Why isn't everybody else? Why are people willing to risk the limits of their so-called freedom (thank you, Patriot Act) just to score some ganja or hydracodone?
On one of the episodes I was watching this morning on hulu, there was a call of "shots fired". Half a dozen cruisers descended on the scene and out came an old man, wearing (of course. Face palm. Why? Why, oh, why?) a t-shirt featuring the Confederate battle flag and portraits of Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis, Stonewall Jackson and some other Confederate worthy.
"I ain't done nothing!"
"Sir, we had a call of shots fired."
"I'm a heart patient!"
"Yes, sir. Please step forward toward the flashlight."
Hands up, half blind to begin with, he edged toward the flash light. "I was a-cleanin' m'gun an' hit went off."
"Sir, there are five bullet holes in your door."
"Hit's on automatic."
Wait. You were cleaning a loaded gun on automatic?
"I was just talking to m'daughter, Pook - I call her Pookie - an' the damn thing went off. I guess she called y'all."
I imagine Pookie hundreds of miles away if she fell far enough away from the Pookie's daddy's tree, wondering aloud, "What's Daddy done done now?"
The man was co-operative and sad somehow, probably because he seemed so confused that he'd done something wrong. I would have made a terrible cop or social worker. Oh, okay. Pookie's daddy messed up. Just take his guns and leave him be.
In the end, the cops took him down to the local loony bin for evaluation because the man was obviously not taking care of himself and his property.
I am glad that during the weekend I have given no one offense. I also do not and never will (and probably couldn't) own firearms. No doubt I would have been hauled down to County in my purple striped pajamas once they got a good look at Ma Maisonette.
But I feel for Pookie. Hauling Daddy away wasn't the end of the story but the beginning of one. What was going to happen to Daddy when he was found mentally incompetent?
Poor Pookie. Then again, she's probably been dealing with this her entire life. Poor Daddy. Poor Pookie.
2 comments:
Daughter in NJ, her father was in Colorado, and he got messed up, out of control diabetes and kidney failure, stopped eating anything but candy, stopped bathing, hadn't filed a tax return in several years, and a neighbor called her to tell her he wasn't making sense. Yeah, she went out there and pretty much forced him to move back to live with his mother and sister in south Jersey. That was about seven years ago. I can't figure out how he's still alive. Still not bathing.
Silk - Daughter is a saint.
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