Police Don't Care

There's never a cop around when you need one, and even when they get an easy case they would rather look tough instead of looking out for the common man. I had my phone stolen, and when I called 911 to tell them how to solve the case, I was told to do all the work myself. "We won't come until we're not needed." You'd think they'd want to solve a crime every now and then, just for the sake of pride, even a small case, but no, cops are lazy. They owe me $50 because they could've found my phone if they had only tried.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Erase All Lines On The Map

Imagine there's no countries...John Lennon once sang that, and I can imagine that. It's the only way to preserve life on Earth, as I see it, but try to convince those who have power to give it up. Each of them, from the humblest mayor to the haughtiest autocrat, gets a big ego boost knowing that people look up to them, and that feeds their little minds. Each of them want to convince us that it's about serving the people, but it seems to me that the people in power make sure they get theirs first, and when things get bad, funny how it's the common people who starve first. If these public servants cared, they wouldn't dress so nice and have big banquets whenever a visiting dignitary showed up. But, surprise, they don't care: it's all about them. In their own way, each of them are as bad as Donald Trump.
Read more

Out and About

I've always liked just walking around, with nowhere to go but going there anyway. It's part of being a loner, like being an icon seeking a connection, and if failing at that, just enjoying the scenery. What is the scenery like in the microscopic realm? Is that what Whitman meant when he said that he contained multitudes? Probably not, but it never ceases to amaze me how the large and magnificent objects are built up of small, insignificant particles.
Read more

God Bless All Your Empty Little Heads

Screaming in the wilderness, the echo is drowned out by the steady drone of traffic and is unheard, but somehow it is felt. Mr. & Mrs. Plastique shudder for a second, but they exchange no words about the sensation; they walk on, put the uneasy feeling down to the breakfast they had just consumed. Questions they don't want to ask pop into their minds, and they try to dispel them with their trivial concerns, but the exploits of the local football team and the latest fashions fail to dislodge their sudden input of thought. "For some reason, I want to see Reverend Dim," Mrs. Plastique says, and the hubby tells her that would be a fine idea. He plans on getting very drunk.
Read more