Saturday, March 7, 2009


It’s not that I don’t like cops. As the immortal Mickey Rourke once said in a movie based on the life of the immortal Bard of Los Angeles, Bukowski himself, I just seem to feel better when they’re not around. Nothing wrong with that, right? I mean, when cops are around, it means that somebody did something wrong. Or that they think somebody did something wrong, which is often just as bad. So yeah, I feel better when they’re not around. But that doesn’t mean I want them not to be around, if you know what I mean. I have had occasion to need the cops, and whichever motherfucker out there iced Jason Kindred of the Los Angeles Police Department, I hope that when they catch him, no one is looking. Not too likely, I get that, but there wasn’t anyone looking when he did what he did, and part of me just wants to say what the fuck about that? I didn’t even know there was a place left in our City of Angels where you weren’t in the field of at least one lens. Now it turns out that there are quite a few. I used to think that municipal surveillance was the last step on the way to Big Brotherville, but then it happened, and you know what? It didn’t make any difference, because who the fuck cares what I do? Then I got used to it. Then I started to assume it was always there no matter where I went or what I did. And now that I know that’s not true, it makes me a little nervous. My twenty-year-old self is calling me a pussy right now. Godspeed, Jason Kindred. But I still feel better when cops aren’t around.

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