I love the idea of Christmas. It's time we take to worship and spend with our families. It's a peaceful
and happy moment in the year where we forgive and extend a warm hand of friendship to our fellow man. Like I said, I
love the IDEA of Christmas.
Christmas has become so commercialized and product driven that the notion of peace and goodwill disappear at the entrance
of your local Wal-Mart or shopping mall. Once you cross the threshold of mega-shopping mania, you have taken your life
into your own hands and entered an active combat arena.
Today I decided to go out and get some Christmas shopping done... okay, not done... started. I'm a procrastinator,
but that's not the point here. I get in the truck and strike out for the nearest shopping mall. A huge four level
megaplex of toys, socks, and cheesecakes. Everything I need. After a battle with the usual traffic zombies
and aggressive drivers I arrive at the shopping mall parking lot. The giant snowflakes, oversized snowglobes, mechanically
waving Santas, and smiling reindeer are all it takes to put me in that "Holiday Mood". I crack a smile and
start for the door.
Once you make it inside, the "Holiday Mood" changes to sheer panic. The number of people crammed into the mall
is horrifying as I grab for the walls in an attempt to breathe and avoid being swept into the sea of human motion.
Like the first time holiday iceskater, I cling to the walls as though I know, if I let go, I will fall to my doom. Somewhere
in this conglomeration I search for a smiling face, a friendly reassurance of... whatever.
There are the cell phone people. They walk around the malls and stores with a small purchase in one hand, and a
cell phone held up to their ear in the other. The cell phone is obviously equipped with all of the latest technology.
A sublime collection of ringtones, a camera, a night light, internet capability, a fork and knife set, sunroof, power locks,
wine bottle opener, and vibrate function. Constantly yakking away to someone on the other end at a level so loud that
they could drown out a squadron of fighter jets passing overhead at 50 feet. I don't know who Margerie is, but she should
pick better friends with the way these two talk about her... and don't even get me started on the fake spray on tan "that's
like, SO obvious on Jennifer. Like, what was she thinking?" Obviously an important conversation that couldn't
wait for a more private time.
There's the aggressive parents. They travel through the mall pushing double wide baby carriages with monster
truck tires, wielding them as warhammer battering rams. The toddlers and infants, strapped into the strollers with five
point NASCAR harnesses and matching helmets, are oblivous to the reckless danger they are exposed to as their parents use
them to clear a path and mow over the elderly. I dive over a potted fake plant to avoid becoming the next stroller victim,
unknowingly encountering my next group.
Teenagers. Surrounding a chain store where you shop when your favorite color is black, your favorite artist is
Marilyn Manson, and your favorite words include "stab, blood," and "vampire". They stand in a group with coordinated
pants, shirts, and hairstyles in a vain attempt to be different through expression... just like all the other teenagers.
They smoke on a pack of clove cigarettes someone stole from their mom, and try not to cough in front of one another because
that might be "uncool". Once I looked through the shop of spiked collars, black t-shirts, leather armbands, and rubber
chewtoys I walk out with a pretty good idea of what I would buy my dog... that is, if I had one. I then flee for my
life, covering my neck and screaming the Lord's Prayer. In the distance I spot a glimmer of hope.
I walk by Santa Clause himself! Rosey red cheeks, long flowing white beard, big red suit... this would be the epicenter
of Christmas cheer. I stopped and waved, but Santa didn't notice me because of the 200 pound 8 year old crushing his
lap with a babbling Christmas list that never seemed to stop. The empty bottles of Purell hand sanitizer
piling up behind Santa's chair spoke volumes... as did the half empty whiskey bottle tucked away under his sack. I leave
Santa and continue my mission to Christmas shop or die trying.
I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!! Kids are everywhere. Like rainwater, they are run-off from the Santa display.
Running around uncontrollably, they are a chaotic ballet of runny noses, slimey hands, and peepee pants. Loud and shrieking,
they run in circles leaving little demon spawn handprints on everything they touch. I am scared, and I immediately
go where they cannot, where I can be safe... Victoria Secret.
No sooner than I enter the sensuous store of stringy undergarments, I am deloused and sanitized with a smelly spray.
"It's called Heaven," called out a well endowed young lady wearing a low cut shirt, "would you like to
buy it?" "Buy it?!" I asked with a surprised expression on my face. The young lady nodded. "Is that now
legal here in America?" I asked.
I was asked to leave... perverts!
Tired and hungry, I decided it was time to eat. I walked into the food court and examined my selection of eateries. I
didn't want anything big, a salad and a drink. That would be perfect. I walked into a small cafe and ordered a
delicious looking salad. "That all?" the cashier blurted out with all the coziness and heart warming attitude
of camel spit. "Yes," I replied with a disappearing grin. "$35." I stood there in shock. "I-I-I'm
sorry, but it sounded like you said, um..." "$35! I did say $35." She retorted with a snarl and squint.
I could feel other mall patrons piling up behind me, staring at the back of my head with laserbeam eyes. "But it's just
a sala-" "$35!!!" she interrupted. I gave her the money, and cowered away.
Now I'm back at home. After an entire day of Christmas shopping, I have no presents. The only thing I have
to show for my day at the mall is an empty wallet, a wilted salad, a head cold, and a suspicious wife. Next year I'm
shopping online. This year, everybody will have to settle for things I can find around the house... like grocery coupons
and a half eaten bag of peanuts.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS to everyone that takes the time to read my rants. My best wishes to all of you...
who am I kidding? My best wishes to both of you, and you'll probably get your Christmas card on December 27th... because
I'm procrastinating again.
The local and national press is inundated with short one-sided clips of exclamated "police brutality". A short
search through
YouTube will reveal a plethora of entries on the subject, and a
Google of the phrase nets about 1,660,000 page hits. Some pages claim to be watch dog organizations out to expose the truth
behind the "blue wall of silence", while other sites are forums with threads and discussions over several hand picked
video clips. A great deal of the provided horrific clips of police brutality on YouTube are taken overseas from countries
such as Romania, Pakistan, Africa, etc.
We have all witnessed the news media frenzy of graphic police brutality. The case of
Abner Louima, the immigrant violated by four New York City police officers with a toilet plunger, brought worldwide attention
to a grotesque misuse of power. This disgusted the national public and fellow police officers alike.
The problem that I see arising, is any use of force by a police officer is quickly labeled as police brutality by the
general public. Anyone with a digital recorder or camera can film themselves in a police presence and post the video
on the internet with a headline of "Police Brutality". Are some of them what I would consider cases of excessive force?
Yes, but many of those are from overseas. Are they all examples of abuse of power? No, what we see are very
short and edited clips of pursuits, fights, arrests, and riots. Do they embody police over reaction to simple situations?
A small amount, yes, but for 99.99% of the cases, no.
(Eugene O'Donnell USA Today)
The police are sworn to protect the safety of the public and enforce the written laws of their jurisdiction. Into
this mix, add the need for self-preservation, and preservation of the life of others. The police officer walks a fine
line, everyday, of dealing with volatile and dangerous individuals. For an officer to under-react to any given situation
could cost that officer his/her life, or the life of another.
Many of the cases I view where the person alleges police brutality is often the fault of the violator failing to comply
with the instructions of the officer. The first levels of force are presence and verbal commands. If a person
refuses to comply with the verbal requests of the officer, the officer cannot simply put his/her hands in their pockets and
go home. The law must be enforced, public safety and peace must be restored. In failing to comply with the verbal
commands of the officer, the subject has forced an escalation in the officer's actions. This includes calling for backup
officers to respond, and using physical force.
The application of physical force is what receives the most attention from both the media and the general public.
We can all use landmark examples such as Rodney King and Abner Louima to illustrate brutal overbearing force of police
misconduct. However, many of the videos appearing in the media are short snip-its only showing an officer
punching a resisting subject in the head. The photographer seems to either have missed, or edited out, the part where
the violator led the police on a high speed pursuit, wrecked his car into innocent commuters, got out and ran on foot, and
then still fought with police when he was cornered and caught.
At one time I read a quote on a website I can no longer recall the name of. The quote in bold enlarged print read
something to the effect of, "Without their badge and gun, they are regular people just like us." My thoughts on that
are, yes, we are. Even with the badge and gun, we are regular normal everyday people. We get angry like everyone
else, we get hurt like everyone else. We get excited like everyone else, and we get scared like everyone else.
The difference is, we chose a line of work that requires us to muster up the courage everyday to deal with violent, hurtful,
and unpredictable side of the public. We must be ever mindful of public perception, and often bite our tongues and show
a great deal of restraint beyond that of the general public around us.
The question becomes, how much force is enough, and how much is too much. As a personal rule, I use as much force
is necessary to enforce the law AND to ensure the safety of both myself and my shift partners. Failure to comply with
verbal direction will result in physical action. The physical action escalates with the level of resistance demonstrated
by the subject I am confronting. It could be as minor as simply placing my hands on them, or it could escalate directly
to a deadly force situation. Every situation is different, and this often puts the officer at a disadvantage in constantly
playing catch up in a reaction effort.
For someone with a digital recorder to record the account of an officer enforcing the law and quickly post the account
on the internet under the headline of police brutality is showing a gross misjudgement in posting libellous information for
general viewing as fact. This is a disservice to the media viewing public as it fails to present the full story or circumstances
surrounding altercation. For anyone unable to understand why the police would resort to physical force, I would encourage
them to study up on the Fallen Officers Memorial Page listed in the previous post. Many officers are dead from not escalating
up their use of force continuum quickly enough. I would then encourage these individuals to do a ride-along with their
local departments/agencies for a better understanding of a police officer's role.
