Inkless Sin

Ever find yourself doing your job when you realize something was amiss? Yeah, me too.

MC: Do you know why I stopped you?
FSE (Future Staples Employee): Speeding?
MC: Yeah...do you have your license, registration and insurance today?
FSE: Here you go.

Here's where the "amiss" part comes in. I walked back to the bike to begin scratching out the ticket. I got about halfway through when I noticed something odd. Seems the ink was getting lighter and lighter. As any good Motor knows, you should always carry an extra pen, right?

Hello?

Right?

Yeah, I didn't have an extra pen. Then, a spark of genius!

MC: Ma'am, would you happen to have a pen?
FSE: Uh...sure.
MC: Thank you.

I proceeded to finish out the cite and returned to the car.

MC: Okay, I just need your signature on the yellow highlighted portion. And here's your pen back.

Ah, the early signs of my once palpitating heart beginning to slow and grow thick with black sludge. Enough to bring a tear to the eye. If only they hadn't dried up as well. *Sigh*

The Warning and the Barn Door

I'm often asked what the funniest/weirdest/dumbest excuse is offered to me when I'm conducting a traffic stop. This one ranks right up there in the funny column.

MC: Do you know why I stopped you?
Farmer Jed (you should be able to figure out why by the end of this story): It might be because I wasn't wearing my seat belt.
MC: Yeah. It's not the end of the world, though.
Farmer Jed: You mind if I explain why?
MC (always looking for my fodder): Knock yourself out.
Farmer Jed: See, I just left the gym and I'm on my way to work. I realized about halfway there that my, uh, zipper wasn't up.
MC: I notice you're wearing a zippered sweatshirt. Would that be the zipper to which you were referring?
Farmer Jed: No, sir.
MC: Jed, we talking 'bout the barn door here?
Farmer Jed (with not a little bit of embarrassment): That'd be the one. I took my seat belt off briefly to, well, zip up. I didn't want to show up at work with my zipper down.
MC: Jed, I gotta tell you. No pun intended, but you've gotta have stones to admit that to a cop. Do me a favor and next time, just pull over to handle that particular predicament, alright?
Farmer Jed (with a smile): You got it.

So, there you go. I gotta give Jed credit...that's a fairly embarrassing thing to bring up, but he did. And, he got me to laugh on top of it. A double whammy, indeed.

Well played, Jed. Well played.

A Very Special Introduction to a New Blog

Although it's a new blog, the blogger is a near five year vet of blogging. I'm proud to introduce you all to the woman that has made all my dreams come true...the Wife. Ever wonder how someone could put up with such a black-hearted blaggard? Ever wonder what life is like for me when I doff the boots and britches? All your questions (and more, I'm sure) will be answered at the Wife's new blog, Beyond the Boots and Britches.

I've been instructed to inform you that she's not sure how often she will update. Of course, I said that as well two and a half years ago. The Wife is a very busy woman, though. I certainly don't want her to feel obligated to add yet another activity to her (in my opinion) very full plate.

This woman does it all, folks. She takes care of our beautiful girls. She co-ops at the eldest's pre-school in addition to being on the board of same. There is always a warm meal for dinner. Our home is a comfortable, inviting, clean place. I tell you all that to tell you this...I'd rather strap on a kevlar vest and take my chances. God bless her.

Please join me in welcoming her! Leave her an encouraging hello and I'll thank you indeed. She joins the league of oft-overlooked and under-appreciated support that keeps LEOs like me thriving!

The Crossover - FSTs and the News

Happy and I talk about some Police/EMS related news items including the man shot while holding a garden nozzle, FSTs, and an EMT that survived a head-on collision in an ambulance. We also answer a few more viewer questions...and introduce a new way to get your questions to us.

Wanna be on the show? You can ring us with your questions at 313-451-HMMC! It's ready and waiting to record your quandaries 24/7!

Thanks for listening!

Shocked Face?!? Really?!?

I wish I could tell you just how often it is that people simply don't pay attention to Motors. Defensive driving? Oh, no...offensive driving (take that however you want) is the answer. If I'm not paying attention to everything around me, I'm going to end up roadkill.

Case in point...

On the way back from court the other day (one of my favorite times to stop someone, by the way), I'm getting on the freeway. I have a green turn arrow. This would lead one, and correctly as it happens, to believe that oncoming traffic has the red. One might also assume that the person with the red light would see all the traffic making a turn in front of them. Sure, they want to jump on the 'ol highway just as badly as the rest of us. As the fates would have it, though, wait they must.

I was about halfway through my turn when a driver looked right at me and then turned in front of me. Okay, not the first time that has happened to me and certainly not the last. Of course, I pulled her over. She was apologetic as the day is long...until I came back with the cite.

MC: Okay, ma'am. I need you to sign the highlighted yellow portion, please.

PCL: (Peripherally Challenged Lady): You're giving me a ticket?!?

MC: Ma'am, you nearly hit me.

PCL: I said I was sorry.

MC: And while I appreciate that, I'm still going to issue you a citation today.

PCL then went on to sign the cite. She glared at me for what felt like the entire time. As if it was my fault. I keep forgetting the hypnotic Jedi-like skills I possess. Obviously, I forgot that I entered her psyche from the other side of the intersection and planted a suggestion that she cut me off, causing me to brake very quickly, just so I could use the training and my super-speed agility quotient.

I'm always forgetting that power.

What really caught my attention was the look on her face. She totally blamed me for giving her a ticket. I felt like saying, "Lady! You nearly hit a police officer. How you even remotely think this could enter the vicinity of my responsibility is so far beyond me, it defies comprehension!" Instead, I thanked her and asked her to drive safely.

Mostly because I we were headed in the same direction and I didn't want further issues.

The Crossover - Episode 6 Return of the Medic

This episode finds the tables turned and I'm at the helm lobbing some inquiry volleys at Happy. For those of you in the LEO world that have been wondering just what Happy is truly all about, this is for you!

In other news, if you've got access to iTunes and want to subscribe to our Crossover podcast, use http://happymedic.com/category/the-crossover-podcast/feed/ whilst in the podcast section of iTunes! We're (and by 'we' I mean Happy...I'm techno-challenged) are working on some other podcast related tweeks, so stay tuned!

On with the show...

Good Parenting

Any time I do anything remotely not stupid, my Mom says, "It must be good parenting!" Who am I to quibble?

Today, I stopped a good example. I was sitting in my pond du jour when I saw a speeding vehicle. I pulled it over and walked up to talk to the obviously young driver. He had his hands on the wheel. His window was rolled up. He looked a bit like he was going to have an attitude on him. I mimed (not trapped in a box) that I wanted him to roll the window down. My first thought was, "Cop's kid."

MC: Do you know why I stopped you?

GA (Good Apple): No, sir.

MC: Do you know what the speed limit is back there?

GA: 35, sir.

MC: Do you know how fast you were going?

GA: Not much more than 40, sir.

MC: 49. Do you have your license, registration and insurance?

GA: Yes, sir. I'm very sorry, sir.

MC: What does your Dad do for a living?

GA: He's in construction.

MC: Have you ever had a ticket before?

GA: I've never been pulled over, sir.

MC: Okay...hang tight...I'll be right back.

I ran him out and sure enough, he had a clean record. I had him dead to rights for speed.

MC: So, you've never been pulled over before?

GA: No, sir.

MC: I'm going to give you a break. Interested in why?

GA: Yes, sir.

MC: I can count on one hand how many times I've stopped someone as polite as you. You did everything you were supposed to do. You kept your hands on the wheel. That helps put me at ease. It's a smart thing to do for both of our safety. I'm not sure who taught you how to handle being stopped by the police, but I assume it was your folks. I won't tell them about this little incident if you don't, but you seem like a pretty honest kid. If you end up telling them, do me a favor and tell them I appreciate the good job they did with you.

GA: I'll tell them, sir. Thank you!

So to Mr. and Mrs. Random I say, "Well done! Great job in raising what appears to be a polite, honest, and well adjusted young man!"

That's my Good Apple Award, pictured above, by the way. Creativity abounds!

You want me to hold on to what, now?

Dear Other States in the Union that Aren't CA,

Please don't laugh at what follows.

Sincerely,

MC

With that out of the way, let's talk about Prop. 215. What's that? It's California's (I swear I'm not making this up) Compassionate User act of 1996. Could they have come up with a more touchy-feely name? Oh, that's right, I live in California. We're not called the Left Coast for nothing.

Now, I realize both of our calendars say 2010 and if my math holds up, this law was enacted 14 years ago. So, why do I bother bringing it up now? Because of a little situation we ran into a few weeks back. We had an officer make a stop for some traffic violation. One thing led to another and the smell of weed permeated the air. A legal search was conducted. A significant amount of marijuana was located. The driver claimed to have a medical marijuana card. For whatever reason, he was separated from his ganja.

Here's where things get silly. We (and by "we" I mean the PO-lice) had to take his weed for safekeeping. You read that correctly. He didn't have his card with him. He had no way to prove he was legal. We just sort of took his word for it. I mean how bad a guy could he be rolling around with a few ounces of weed in his car. At night. From party to party. Compassionate care giver, my ass. Greedy dope dealer seems a bit more accurate to me.

Know what safekeeping means? It means we held on to it, he came back to pick it up, and we gave it back to him! Unreal...

I'm not going to get into a philosophical discussion about the morality/legality/dangers/lack of dangers of using marijuana. What I have a problem with is two-fold:

First, I am not your drug safekeeping haven. You want your weed back? Contact the D.A.'s office about getting it back when they inevitably drop the charges I arrested you for. If you are not in compliance with what 215 says, I'm going to arrest you for it. End of story.

Second, I don't believe anyone under the age of 20 has any of the following (with great exception): chronic pain, insomnia, back pain, anxiety, knee pain. In my humble opinion, those are easy catch-alls that sketchy Docs use when they write bullshit scrips for these chuckleheads. I'll grant you the occasional "I survived a heinous crash when I was 17 and now I have to sleep in a body cast every night" reason. Okay?

But, I'm not buying that 19 year old Johnny is so overwhelmed with anxiety and just can't get his beauty rest so he has to hit the spliff to get some shut eye. I've had my bouts with insomnia and anxiety in the past...didn't resort to drugs (legal or otherwise) to muddle through.

Whatever happened to strength of character? Whatever happened to personal fortitude? Unfortunately, Society as a whole is raising a bunch of snot-nosed, self-entitled, medicated, ingrates that Life is going to ever so gently gore when they hit the land of reality. Kind of reminds me of my favorite commercial right now:

Couldn't have said it better myself. I salute you, R. Lee Ermey!

Before you get your collective knickers in a bunch, let me wrap up by saying I get the reason behind 215. What pisses me off is those amongst the population that either a) use it as a crutch or b) use it as a legal loophole to deal weed.

So, there you have it, folks. In other states, weed will land you in prison. In CA, the cops hang on to it for you. Heaven forbid we deprive you of your voter enacted rights!

A Feminine Touch

Careful...I know what you were thinking...

But, I'm talking about female cops. Not a group the blogging community, at least in my experience, is used to hearing from. That's right...all too often, we knuckle-draggers forget about the "fairer" sex. Momma Fargo just may have something to say about that. From her site, "The Boogie Man is My Friend"..."I am a 40-something female police officer and mother workin' in a 'big city' in the west just doing my little part to save America."

I've seen spouse blogs before and there are some good ones. Mrs. Fuzz leads the pack, in my opinion. However, I can't recall a female police officer's blog. (I'm sure there are others and I'm sure I'm going to take some crap over not mentioning it before...especially if they've been mentioned to me before. Blame the Y-Chromosome, ladies.) So, I send a heart-felt "Howdy" out to Momma Fargo. I know you've been circling the interweb machines for a while and I'm glad to have made your acquaintance...in a totally anonymous, we've never actually met, kind of way. Isn't the internet fun?

Thanks to Suz for pointing me in Momma's direction. I've added both Momma and Mrs. Fuzz to the sidebar. Be sure to check back often...they're some busy bloggers!

The Crossover - Episode 5 MC and/or HM Strikes Back

In this episode we talk about a bunch of stuff. If you listen to it, you will learn something. Not necessarily about either EMS or police work. Maybe you'll learn that it's best that MC not act. Maybe you'll learn that HM has a man crush on MC. One never can tell.

And so, with out further blippity bloop (man, I phoned this intro in, huh?)...The Crossover!

As per usual, my thanks to Happy for his amusing and always entertaining opening/closing to the show! Well done, sir! On our next episode we'll learn a little something about what makes Happy tick. Why is he so damn happy? What in the world is EMS 2.0? What is a Setla? Does a Geordie trump the aforementioned Setla?

Tune in next time, faithful listeners!

Can You Make it a Light One?

Apparently, I am the light beer of the traffic enforcement world. The other day, I was sitting on a stop sign waiting for my date with destiny when lo and behold, there it went...at 40 MPH through the stop sign.

As my rear wheels spun like mad on the pile of leaves I was parked on (gotta love Fall), I threw on the emergency lights and lit around the corner. When I was about halfway through the turn, I saw the offending vehicle waiting patiently down the street about 150' parked on the side of the road waiting on my arrival.

How very kind, indeed!

I pulled in behind the car, got out, and contacted the driver. Before I said word one...

LAMB (Lady Apparently Mistaking me for a Bartender...a stretch? Perhaps.): I missed it, didn't I?

MC: Oh, most assuredly ma'am.

LAMB: Do you have to give me a ticket?

MC: Ma'am, you just shot through a stop sign at 40 mph like it wasn't even there. Yes, I'm going to issue you a citation today.

LAMB: Can you make it a light one?

**A light one? What's a light one? Lady, you're not ordering one of those weak excuses for a beer, here. I'm not your local affable watering hole mate, I'm a police officer.**

MC: I'm sorry, ma'am. A light one? Those don't exist. It's pretty black and white out here. You either get one or you don't. There isn't a scale from which I can draw.

I chuckled all the way back to the car (I was covering a beat) and wrote out the ticket. One of the things I love about traffic stops is the frequent use of "but I've never had a ticket before" or "I haven't had a ticket in over ten years".

Here's the thing, kids...you are not Obi Wan. So, put your hand down. Those are indeed the droids I'm looking for. So, knock off your lame attempts at Jedi mind tricks. You're embarrassing yourself (and the entire Galaxy, by the way). Using those phrases does not equate to getting out of a ticket. Besides, I'm more skilled in the Jedi arts than you. Want an example?

I once made a Michigan fan (dig that, Setla!) yell, "Go Irish!" at the top of his lungs to get out of a ticket. And he did it with a smile on his face....

I love my job.

Death

It's not something any of us in either law enforcement or EMS are happy to have to handle. But it happens. With all too much regularity. As a cop, I get the "Fire is en route for a possible 10-55" (10 code for dead body). We always pray that a) Fire beats us to the call and b) the 10-55 either isn't or hasn't quite given up the ghost, as it were, and Fire will transport.

I've not always been lucky enough to have those occur and I've had my share of deaths to document, kin to notify, and corpses to babysit while waiting on the coroner or funeral home. I'm not a fan of bodies. I've seen too many horror movies and read too many Stephen King novels to be ultra comfy with the recently departed. Straight creeps me out. I will say that I have my Zombie Apocalypse plan in hand and ready to activate at any given moment. Sadly, that plan is more set out than my "what happens when the Big One hits" earthquake plan. Such is my life...

I know the soul is gone. I know it's merely a shell. I know it isn't going to suddenly reanimate and attempt to do me harm...but don't think for a second that isn't what is rocketing through my mind!

What truly amazes me is the tenderness with which the bereaved handle it. To them, it's not a corpse. It's Uncle George. It's Grammy Sue. It's Pops. It's their sister, Janie. I've had the experience myself when my grandparents passed away. I felt neither fear nor a moment's hesitation in putting my hands on theirs. I felt no queasy feeling flitter away in my insides about kissing their foreheads one last time.

The last death I had to deal with was one in which the soon-to-be-never-will-be ex showed up as the ex was the only family in the area. The compassion on the ex's face was obvious and regret seemed to have been painted on like that morning's rouge. The ex wasn't concerned about the past, but simply that the deceased was finally at peace after a lifetime's battles.

While your Aunt Ginnie is watching from (hopefully) above, simply know that your show of affections are lost on neither her nor me.

I'm truly sorry for your loss and hope you can find the peace your relative/friend/loved one now knows....

Profanity

Yesterday's post about Acuff's blog got me to thinking about about something a reader asked me well over a year ago. I must admit to not answering his very direct question and I promised I would address it via email. Call what follows my penance for not doing it sooner....

Quite some time ago, I was asked how I could claim to be a Christian when I use a fair amount of profanity in my posts. Now, I get the apparent contradictions between my beliefs and my somewhat flagrant use of profanity. I guess I avoided the question because I wasn't really sure where to start. It's a good question and one I'm not sure how to answer.

Here's something I've never done in this arena before...ladies and gents, I give you Scripture.

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”
Ephesians 4:29

“Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving.” Ephesians 5:4

So...here's my interpretation of these two (two scriptures I lifted from Acuff's comments on SCL #31, by the way). "Unwholesome talk"...hmmm...that one is pretty broad. I could make some outlandish claims about how we could lump all kinds of things in there. Everything from gossip to trash talking on the sports field could qualify. Does it hit too close to home for me? Maybe...on the other hand, my Dad always said that if we don't point out to the stupid amongst us that they are, in fact, stupid, we wouldn't be doing them a service. One could argue that it would "benefit those who listen".

Secondly, "obscenity". Also a fairly ambiguous term, yes? Wasn't it some Senator that said he didn't know how to define pornography, but knew it when he saw it? As a cop, I see a lot of things that could be interpreted as obscene. I am not particularly offended by most things. Call it cynicism, realism, or simply life, but I think we as a culture are all too sensitive about the lion's share of things this life has to offer.

My rationalization (a carefully chosen word, I assure you) for using the words I do? Sometimes, other words just don't get the job done. In a job where you need people to do things when you tell them to do them, you tend to use the ones that will make that thing happen as expeditiously as possible. I am not a prude nor a cop who thinks that using profanity is "sinking to their level". Yadda, yadda...held to a higher standard...blah, blah, blah. Listen, if the guy that wants to fight me and possibly send me to the hospital isn't responding to "Sir, please have a seat", you better believe I'm going to tell him to "sit the fuck down" if it'll get me home to the Wife and Kids. Sometimes, the shock factor is enough to verbally slap someone across the face.

Honestly, I don't find profanity all that profane. Which is an interesting conundrum because I can't recall calling a woman a "bitch" because I find it offensive to women; however, I won't hesitate to walk into the guy's locker room and say, "What's up, bitches?" (Thank you, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia).

Is this all my attempt at justifying my love of the Mother of All Bad Words? It is distinctly possible. Would I be honest with myself and my writing of this blog if I didn't use what was in my head? I don't think so. That they are in my head in the first place is a completely different topic and not something you all need to concern yourselves with, I think. And no, I couldn't resist the graphic to the right...

When all is said and done, I feel at ease knowing that the audience that I am aiming for and writing for is more like me than not. My job is often confrontational, uncomfortable, and...well...offensive. I don't use profanity when I'm contacting the public (except the unusual case in which it may have the desired affect as stated above). I don't swear around those I know are offended by it. I am not hurling vulgarities when I drop the Kid off at preschool. I'm not completely socially retarded, folks.

Am I creating excuses? Perhaps. Am I worried about my immortal soul behind it? Negative. Am I trying to curb my use of it? Maybe a little...but not so much that I compromise my integrity. Dig that rationalization!

A New Addition (Alternate Title: A Cool Christian Blog?!?!)

The whole point of the post that follows is to point you all to a new addition to the sidebar. It's another blog. This one, however, is different. It's got nothing (and everything...dammit if I'm not clever) to do with law enforcement, EMS, or any other emergency service for that matter.

As a blogger, I have opened up a bit of my professional side to you all. On a few occasions, I have seen fit to allow a glimpse behind the curtain at the great and powerful Oz...also known as my personal life. This would be one of those occasions. Through the magic of podcasts of the Dave Ramsey show, Twitter, and facebook, I have found a man by the name of Jon Acuff. He writes a blog called Stuff Christians Like (a name he admits to nicking from Stuff White People Like...he's on the homage bandwagon just like me!). If you follow me on Twitter, you've already seen the tweet (such a silly term) in which I said we have similar writing styles...except he writes about God and with significantly less profanity.

Jon is an incredible writer. As someone who grew up going to private schools and going to church, I can relate to what he writes about. I can look back fondly on my formative years and chuckle along with Jon about the things that we as Christians purport to enjoy. He is sarcastic...and we all know how much I can identify with that particular characteristic.

Please to enjoy...and I encourage you to start at post #1 and work your way through his archive. If you've ever spent a Sunday in an organized house of God, you'll identify with at least a little of what Jon has to say.

MC's First Ever Product Review

In September of this year, I had the opportunity to visit my friends at the Chronicles of EMS booth at the Tak Response Conference in San Jose, CA. While I was there checking out the other booths, I ran across the ESS Eye Pro booth.
What drew my attention immediately were some lenses that appeared dimpled on the counter. They were similar to what is pictured here on the right. I met and spoke to the ESS representative on site, Scott, and asked him to explain what I was looking at. Scott told me their high-grade, extra-thick polycarbonate lenses can resist impacts...and in the case of the what I was looking at, the lenses were blasted from a Remington 12-gauge shotgun firing #6-shot from 10 meters.

Now, make no mistake, I'm certainly not planning on getting shot in the face; however, we don't always know what the day ahead has planned for us. In the high risk employ that I and so many others choose, being prepared is the name of the game. We wear vests and carry guns. Lots of us wear shades, but how much protection are we truly getting?

Scott provided me with some different styles of shades to demo for a few weeks. About two months have come and gone. I've tried all three styles with varying lenses (a very cool feature I will explain) and frames. I think I stumbled upon an entirely new demographic Scott and his cohorts at ESS may have overlooked...the Motorcop.

Check out the picture to the left. This is the Suppressor frame. It was originally designed for use under hearing protection for the range. As most of us know, ear protection can sometimes be bulky if you use the earmuff style. Well, the thinner frame of the Suppressor was designed to be more comfortable and create less pressure when wearing something that basically squeezes one's head. A fine job of engineering, if you ask me. However, what is bigger and holds one's head even tighter? A motorcycle helmet. I wore this style for three solid weeks and I was amazed at how comfortable they felt. Just about any style of shades are wearable with a helmet for a short period of time. After a while, though, it can get uncomfortable. I never felt a moment's discomfort wearing the Suppressor. (I think Scott was quite happy to hear that, by the by...)

If there is a downside to the Suppressor, it's that without something holding them on (ear protection, helmet, etc.) they are liable to fall from your head if you make too many quick movements. The solution? An easily interchangeable frame system. Notice the thicker frame. ESS has engineered an easy way (with a learning curve, mind you) to change out the frames. There is a notch at the middle top of the frame that flips up, essentially unlocking the lenses. This allows you to either switch the lenses to a different frame or change the style of lens (clear, smoke gray, hi-def copper, and hi-def yellow). I found the interchange a little cumbersome initially, but with practice, I was able to do it with little problem.

The style of the lenses on both the Suppressor and Crossbow was a little too reminiscent of Terminator for me, so Scott was kind enough to provide me with the their CDI Max. This style was much more up my alley. The frames are obviously much thicker, but as luck would have it, they fit well inside my helmet. There are five different colors of lenses available and either black or desert tan frames.

The lens interchange with the CDI Max is simpler than the either the Crossbow or the Suppressor. All one need do is fold back each side of the frame and slide the lens out. When the frames are not folded, they serve as a lock on the lens, so it won't come out. All in all, a great design!

There are a number of different products available at the ESS website. They support law enforcement as well as the military. There have a selection of sunglass styles, eye shields, goggles, and prescription inserts for all of the above.

I am happy to give the MC Seal of Approval (now I have to invent one) for the professionals over at ESS and their outstanding products.

Christmas is right around the corner...how is the LEO or solider in your life set for eye protection?

"@&%$ You"

This particular event didn't happen to me, but to my partner; however, I thought how he handled it was not only professional, but highly amusing. Some of you may very well think that what follows would never happen. I applaud your naivety and your starry-eyed convictions.

My partner stopped some hapless fool recently for some violation or other. The why isn't important. When my partner returned to the violating vehicle and handed the citation over for signature, it was returned to him with this in the signature box:

"Fuck you".

Not skipping a beat, my partner replied, "Sir, that's fantastic, but I'm going to need your legal signature." He had the violator sign appropriately and sent him on his way. Now, I can't take exception to how he handled the situation. I can only say what I would have done in his stead.

First, I'd have written out a whole new cite. Why? 'Cause that bad boy is going in a frame. No way am I giving that one up! Too classic. Second, I'd rattle dude's chain a bit and say something to the effect of, "Sir, if you pull the same kind of shenanigans, I'm gonna interpret it as a refusal to sign. At which point, I'm going to pull you from your car, put you in handcuffs, and take you to jail. All of your protestations will fall on deaf ears because I will have given you two chances to be an adult and not a childish little prick. So, I don't want to hear your bitching when I'm booking you for delaying me in my duties."

But, that's just me. I'm nothing if not dedicated to my craft.

The Rumors are True

There have been a number of times over my career as a Motor that I have been accused of having little or no compassion. Can you imagine such a thing? I've been called heartless, the Tin Man, and the Machine...and those are my co-workers! You know the old joke about someone having ice water in their veins? Well, I'm here to admit to it...

Last week, I donated blood. They gave me the choice between whole blood and just the red blood cells. It seems the latter can be used sooner and is more beneficial. Consequently, I went that route. The interesting thing about it is they use some fancy whizbang machine to process the blood, separate it into its components and then the plasma is pumped back into the donor...me, in this case.

The staff warned me that the returning plasma would feel cooler than I expected because by the time it was processed, it was at room temperature. Obviously, my innards are warmer than that. And, I tell you what, they weren't lying! When the process reversed itself and went from suck to blow (thank you, Spaceballs), it literally felt like ice water was being pumped into me!

I started to laugh and I got some strange looks. I felt like I was being prepped to return to work with fresh determination and that now I had a legit reason to be the heartless machination I have always been purported to be.

Oh...and when they offered an array of colors for the bandage? Yeah, I went with black. You know, just to complete the ensemble.

On a side note, I'd encourage all of you to donate blood. It's easy, painless, and they give you free juice and cookies. The life you save may be your partner's.

A New Brother-in-Arms

I was contacted last week by a fellow LEO about his new (ish) foray into the blogosphere. He's one of those wacky vampire-types who love it when the moon is full and the crazies come out. Please to enjoy the musings of The Graveyard Dog. You'll also find the link on the sidebar under Code 2 Assist.

Welcome aboard, Dog!

The Crossover - A New Hope

Yeah...we're shameless about ripping off Lucas. Call it an homage...

This episode finds us wrapping up HM's ride with me, the collision we responded to, and how I handled the situation that made HM both hopeful and a bit jealous. We also answer some questions from Twitter.

New and exciting things are coming for future Crossovers, my friends! So, stay tuned and we'll update you via Facebook and Twitter!

If Otis can figure it out...

Friends, meet Otis. Otis is the Town Sot. Otis is a walking, talking .30 BAC at 0900 hours. I'm not kidding. Otis goes to jail on a weekly basis for drunk in public. He is a blight upon the Earth. He smells like desperation, shitty vodka, and urine. Every winter, we all assume he will die. He never does. He will outlive us all. Otis is like a super kick-ass steroid cockroach.

But you know what? Otis is smarter than a handful of people I met yesterday...and here's why.

I was sitting on a major thoroughfare that has a trail crossing bisecting it. This crossing is controlled by signal lights. When vehicular traffic has the red light, pedestrian and bicycle traffic has the green, and vice versa. We get complaints about the intersection all the time. Either vehicles are running the red or the cyclists crossing the road in the crosswalk ignore their red light. Pedestrians are just as bad, if not worse. They "don't want to bother the cars" so they don't push the button that cycles the light allowing them to cross with the little white silhouetted man. Typically, they'll give a casual look right and left, then dash across the busy street in what they interpret as a safe maneuver.

Believe it or not, there is a vehicle code section in California that requires pedestrians to wait for the actual "walk" signal before crossing the street. Know what that means? That means I can write 'em for not doing it.

Right now, I can hear a number of you saying, "That's a chickenshit ticket." Perhaps, perhaps. I might have been willing to listen to your argument...before yesterday. Yesterday, I saw Otis.

Otis walked (and by walked, I mean sort of stumbled and slithered in his Otis-ness) to the threshold of the crosswalk. I saw Otis's left hand float up as if unbidden and push the pedestrian button.

"What's this?!?" I thought to myself. I took my shades off to make absolutely sure I wasn't hallucinating. I saw Otis stand there for at least 20 to 30 seconds (a full 15-20 seconds longer than your average, sober adult). Sure, he was swaying, but he didn't move toward the street.

Lo and behold, the lights cycled, the little white man appeared, the audible tone sounded and Otis stumbledslithered across the street! Un-fucking-believable!! Right then and right there, I decided that I was going to cite every single person, be they cyclists or peds, that failed to do what Otis just did.

Otis is a functioning alcoholic, folks. He was able to figure out that playing Frogger across a busy intersection is a quick way to a painful experience and perhaps an early grave. Otis. The guy that obviously has no concern for what must be his basketball-sized liver and his surely pickled internal organs. Otis pushed the damn button.

But you, jogger? You just want to keep that pace up. You, cyclist? We are already well aware of your sense of entitlements when it comes to the vehicle code.

Otis is smarter than the lot of you. Kinda makes me wish I could buy the poor bloke a better brand of hooch. My helmet is off to you, Otis.

At least until the next time I have to arrest your drunk ass...but when that happens, I'll be sure to tell you this story and how your unlikely actions inspired me.

So, you say it's your birthday? Anniversary? Holiday?

I'm not sure how many of you are aware of this fact, but did you know that virtually every day on the calendar is special? It's true. Every day is someone's birthday. Every day is someone's anniversary. Someone dies every day and there are funerals held 365 days a year (except maybe Arbor Day...that one's pretty sacred).

But, you get the point, right?

No? I'm being obtuse again? Dammit...

Here's my point. I hear excuses every day for just about every violation under the sun. When those excuses don't pan out, I get the excuses similar to those above. Well, guess what, scooter? YOU CAN DIE ON YOUR BIRTHDAY, ANNIVERSARY, HOLIDAY, ON YOUR WAY TO YOUR COLLEGE ROOMMATE'S EX-GIRLFRIEND'S UNCLE'S BLESSED F'N FUNERAL!

Is that clear enough? So, no. I don't care what day of the week it is. I don't care what's happening in your personal life. You run just as much risk on every other day as you do on your special day. Don't fool yourself.

Speeding is speeding. Not buckling up is not buckling up. Driving with your head in a dark and smelly place is, well, gross...particularly when you've got your cell jammed up there as well.

Do yourself a favor. Slow down, hang up, and buckle up. If you do that, we can avoid these philosophical debates on the side of the road. Besides, I always win. *wink*

I'm a Suckerfish

You read that right. Technically, it's called a remora (you're welcome, ichthyologists!). Genus and other scientific crap notwithstanding, the point remains that I'm the suckerfish...not the shark.

By now, you should be wondering, "Alright, MC. Then just who is the shark, exactly?"

I knew you kids were smart. The shark, dear readers, is the big, shiny, red truck driven by our friends the Firemen.

Follow my logic, here. It's well established that I've got Fire roots deep within that will never fade. I grew up in the firehouse. I've got just about as many Fire friends as Cop friends. You needn't look much further than my friendship with my brother from another mother, HM, to understand. Now, don't go getting misty-eyed, my Fire friends...I'm still a black-hearted nightmare on a motorcycle. Still, I like to see you guys getting to your calls as quickly as that big ass rig and your driver are willing to go.

Enter the general public. And their seemingly incontrovertible inability to get out of our collective way.

See, when I'm en route to a call and folks don't get the hell out of my way, there's little I can do about it right then. Someone else needs my attention more; however, when I hear and/or see Big Red rolling code down the boulevard, I see a grand opportunity to exact justice and rid myself of some pent up rage at all the other clueless mouth breathers from past incidents.

I'll never forget the first time I pulled someone over for failing to yield to an emergency vehicle. I was still in patrol training and happened to see Fire headed out to do their thing. My FTO was in the car with me and we followed for a bit. As per usual, some hapless fool didn't get out of the way. He got a ticket. An expensive ticket.

After the violator drove away, I looked at my FTO and asked, "You mind if I make a quick phone call?" He seemed curious...and wary (even then my sarcasm was evident). He acquiesced. I rang my Dad and told him the whole story. I felt like I had righted a wrong from the days of yore when my Dad had those same idiots keeping him from getting to where he needed to be. It was a proud day for us both, I assure you!

So, to all my Fire friends in and about Town...if you see me posted up waiting on you to pull out of the house or you wonder where the damn Motorcop came from all of a sudden, I heard your call when you did and I'm just waiting to suck onto your bumper and exact some justice on all our behalves.

There's never a cop when you need...oh, wait, there's one.

Today, whilst sitting at one of my prized and varied haunts, I had occasion to witness a failure to yield. Not to me, mind you, but rather between two motorists at a T-intersection controlled by stop signs.

How many times have you waited your allotted time at a stop sign only to have some clueless moron (or downright jackass) jump ahead of you? Yeah...me, too. How many times have you thrown up your hands and said to yourself, "Dammit! There's never a cop around!" Believe it or not...me, too.

Consequently, when I witnessed that very thing today in uniform upon my motor, I got to see the range of emotions from the "victim car".

Picture this: a T-intersection with the top of the T running west/east and the the base north/south. Two cars approach the stop sign controlled intersection westbound. A third approaches southbound. The first car westbound stops and then goes.

Quick...whose turn is it next???

Yup, the southbound. She begins to enter the intersection...only to have the second westbound driver jump ahead of her. This all happened within seconds, by the way. At any rate, I saw the woman driving southbound throw up her hands in veritable disgust and I damn near saw one of those cartoon balloons pop up above her head with this inside:

"Seriously?!? What a jerk! How come there's never a cop arou...oh! There's one!"

At which point, our hero fires up the bike, hits the lights and rides by to cheers and beautiful, fainting women. Well, not exactly, but she did smile, wave and say, "Thanks!" Close enough, right?

Sometimes, it's just nice to feel justified and to see that look of appreciation on someone's face. Mostly, when I'm not behind them, but the point remains...

Alright, Ramblers. Let's get ramblin'...

Ah, the Rambler. I love you, guys. You embody the epitome of contradiction at every turn. Those of my ilk amongst you can attest to the Rambler's innate ability to say one thing, yet do the exact opposite.

Case in point...

MC: Good afternoon. Do you know why I stopped you?

Rambler: No, but I'm in an awful hurry, so get to the point.

MC: Odd that you should say that, sir, seeing as how I stopped you for speeding. Do you know what the speed limit is on Main St.?

Rambler: I'm not from here.

MC: Is that right? Where might you be from?

Rambler: The next town east of here.

MC: You might find it interesting to know that you have the same exact speed limit signs in your town as we do here. It's almost like they're uniform for a reason.

Rambler: Well, I don't think I was speeding.

MC: Well, sir, I assure you that not only are you entitled to your opinion and your day in court, I got you on lidar and you were, in fact, exceeding the posted speed limit.

Rambler: The hell, you say.

MC: As you said, sir, you are in a hurry and I don't want to keep you any longer than is necessary. so, if you'd be so kind, I need your DL, reg, and insurance, if you please.

*I now, no joke, scratch out the cite in about 90 seconds...after all, cat's in a hurry.*

MC: Okay, sir. If you'll just sign on the highlighted yellow portion, we'll get you on your way.

Rambler: I just don't think I was speeding.

MC: Unfortunately, sir, you were. Again, if you'll just sign...

Rambler: I'd like to see the radar.

MC: I can't do that, sir. See, I used lidar, not radar. That notwithstanding, I'd be happy to show you the lidar, sir; however, are you no longer in a hurry? Because if you want to see the lidar, it comes with an explanation and will take a couple of minutes. I'm not just going to show it to you and assume you understand the technology behind it.

Rambler: It's my right.

MC: Actually, sir, I have no legal obligation to show you my equipment. I typically show it upon request as a courtesy.

Rambler: Okay. I'd still like to see it...

At which point, I give my spiel about the differences between radar and lidar. Usually takes me about two to three minutes. That's not long in the scope of things...but weren't you in a hurry, ya jackwagon?

The lesson here is this, folks....don't think that your timetable and mine dovetail. I'm on salary and work (a minimum) of ten hours a day. I literally have damn near the whole day to write you up. Your attempts at pressuring me into hurrying only serve to amuse me and make you fodder for my blog.

So, thanks!

Return of the Crossover

As promised at the end of Episode II The Crossover Strikes Back, Happy came out to ride with me and experience what an average day is like for yours truly. I think he was surprised at the amount of similarities in our jobs and even more surprised at the autonomy that is afforded me.

I had a great time having HM out for the day! I'm looking forward to the day when the roles are reversed and I get to see things from his side of the fence!

Pay close attention to the end of the show...you'll get a preview of what's to come!

Without further brou and/or haha...

The California Stop

I'm fairly certain I've discussed the stop requirements every state in the Union has on their books. Here's my bitch today, though...why is it frequently referred to as a "California" stop? Why not an "Ohio" or even, dare I say it, a "South Dakota" stop?

What is it about the good people of the Golden State that makes them eligible for a nation-wide phenomenon? Does the rest of the country think that we thumb our collective noses at such a bourgeois concept as traffic laws? Are we more apt to violate this particular section of the vehicle code?

Following that logic, why isn't there such a thing as "New York" jaywalkers? How about "Montana" speeders? Or those "Alabama" right-of-way bastards...don't get me started on those fuckers.

Lord knows I love this state of my birth. Lord also knows I can't wait to get the hell out of here as soon as possible; however, that isn't based on our inability to come to a full and complete stop. Seems to me, the granola-crunching, left-coasters have gotten a bad rap on this particular score.

I'm just puttin it out there...

Repeat Offender

(FYI...this picture has nothing to do with this post short of having the same title. It was pure coincidence that Richard Marx came up in lineup (don't ask) this week and I thought a search on "repeat offender pics" with this result was God telling me it'd be funny...to at least two people...of which I am one. Yeah, you'd think the Big Guy would have more on his mind. I don't pretend to understand.)

You may find this hard to believe...but I was sitting at a frequent haunt of mine a few weeks ago (as I am wont to do) when I had occasion to stop a very nice lady. A very nice lady I had stopped just four days prior. Driving the same car. On the same road. Violating the same speed law (and one mile an hour faster at that).

The conversation went a little something like the following:

MC: Good morning...do you know why I stopped you?

SGL (Surprisingly Gracious Lady): Because I'm guilty twice in one week.

MC (a bit confused): How's that?

SGL: You stopped me last week.

As I searched the vast database that is my memory (read: stared off into distance...possibly drooled a bit), I noticed a yellow slip of paper peeking out from beneath some other paperwork on the front passenger seat.

MC: May I see that?

SGL rather sheepishly handed me the copy of the ticket I had written her four days earlier.

MC: I'll be right back, ma'am.

Now, you may be thinking what a cold-hearted bastard I am (have we met?), but let's think about this for a second. Within a four day period, she has violated the same law twice. Not to mention, she was even faster the second time! Seems to me she hasn't quite learned the lesson I had worked ever so hard to teach her four days ago. Consequently, out came the cite book and the pen and a-scrawlin' I didst go.

Here's why I dubbed this lady SGL...

MC: Okay. I need you to sign the yellow highlighted portion at the bottom.

SGL (sighs): You know, I'll be the first to thank you for what you do and being here on this road. It was my fault and I need to pay more attention.

MC: Thank you very much, ma'am. I truly appreciate it.

I had cited this lady twice in a four day period. She took responsibility and her consequences like an adult. She neither whined nor blamed anyone else. I felt bad for a second...then the darkness inside of my tin heart ate the pity and I was all better.

That notwithstanding, though, I really did appreciate her sentiment and wish more of the people I deal with on a daily damn basis would have the decency to pull their heads out of their collective asses long enough to suck it up and be adults about what they did.

Thank you, SGL, you are a shining example to the rest of us...

Motor Competition

Earlier this week, I posted on FB and Twitter that I was considering making a fool of myself at a Motor Competition. To that end, I emailed On High and was called in to have a chat with the new PTB (Powers That Be for you noobs out there).

Ordinarily, a summons to the Office calls for a fair amount of memory searching for whose rights have recently been violated. In this case, however, I knew it was going to be a productive conversation. And I was right. Again. Truly, it's exhausting. (I'm being sarcastic, people. Lighten up, wouldja?)

At any rate, it appears your old buddy, MC, needs to work on the verbiage of his electronic mail correspondence because I got a lesson in liability. Let me say that I don't have a political nor a liability conscience bone in my body. Hell, I probably just screwed the pooch writing that. Regardless, in my email I mentioned that it had been some time since my partner and I had practiced cone patterns and this competition could be a good opportunity to "knock the rust off" as it were.

By "knock the rust off", it seems PTB read it as "break something critical in my body that allows me to be a productive Motor Officer". And, rightly so. That's why PTB makes more scratch than me. By now, you're probably wondering where the positivity I promised is hiding. Well, my impatient friends, PTB and I agreed that we should indeed attend the competition; however, this year it will be as a spectator. I'll be able to get a feel for what it entails. Add to that, PTB gave us the thumbs up to find an appropriate spot to set up the same patterns and practice on a much more frequent basis.

Long story short, simply asking for something (you know...showing some interest in what you do and how to improve at it) turned out to be beneficial. PTB neither wanted us injured due to lack of practice nor did he want a bad showing at a competition. PTB prefers we prepare for it and win it.

Lofty goal, that. I will say, however, that preparing for a competition will only serve to make myself and my partner better riders and more prepared to do the things we may be called to do in an emergency situation.

Sounds like a win-win to me.

If you're interested in attending the competition, you can check out the link here. It's free to the public. Who knows...maybe you'll run into yours truly. Unless of course I'm wearing my cowl (as it were)...then you just may walk right on by me.

Audio Crossover Episode II

Episode II

It's been a long, arduous road for our heroes...

And by heroes, I mean Happy Medic

Because no one likes Motorcop

He's mean.

At any rate, the forces of Evil are looming

and the powerful duo of HM/MC are back

Now all you have to do is pretend this is slowly scrolling up like a badass StarWars knockoff and pray LucasFilms doesn't sue the shit out of us

And by us, I mean Happy Medic

Because Motorcop would go all Han Solo on LucasFilms lawyers like they were Greedo (who totally didn't shoot first, by the by).

In this episode, Happy and I discuss quotas, snarkiness, and his apparent status as a victim of domestic violence. Please to enjoy...

As per usual, we welcome your feedback. Our shallow egos thrive on it, folks...so don't disappoint! If you like what we've done so far, feel free to lob some questions our way! Think of it as an audio version of Ask MC!

MC disappoints a young girl

Okay...so, the title is a bit misleading. You should be happy I disappointed her. Allow me to explain...

Today, I went to help out the local school district with a video for elementary schools. Now, I'm no Happy Medic, so yours truly was more than happy for the aid of a teleprompter. It was actually a pretty fun experience. Two elementary school girls "interviewed" me about being distracted while walking, biking, etc.

I was directed to have more "lights and shadows" in my speech pattern. I pretended to know what that meant. Must have done alright, though, because they didn't kick me off the set or decry my "acting" abilities.

After my scene, they provided a nice spread for lunch. While I was standing around eating, one of the girls came up to me and started asking me your typical questions about my vest, gun, and so forth. Then, she came out of the blue. Not with her question, but her reaction:

PLG (Precocious Little Girl): Have you ever been shot?

*Ordinarily, I get the "Have you ever shot anyone?" Her query is much more infrequent.*

MC: Nope. I haven't.

PLG (with her best you-just-ran-over-my-dog-lower-lip-protruding response): Oh.

...and then she slunk away like her hero just got caught breaking one of the seven deadly sins.

What the hell, kid?

So, yeah, I disappointed a little girl. But only because I haven't been shot!

I look forward to about five or six years from now when I catch her speeding. I'm gonna cite the bejeezus outta PLG.

Happy Birthday, Dad

Usually, I try to be an original writer. There is something I came across years ago, however, that has always made me smile and made me think of my Dad. The now (unfortunately) defunct band Yellowcard released a song on their original album, Ocean Avenue, entitled "Life of a Salesman" that I wish I could take credit for writing.

Although my Dad wasn't a salesman, the lyrics still ring true. Please join me in wishing my Dad a happy 61st! I love you, Dad...thanks for making me the man I am today!

LIFE OF A SALESMAN

What's a dad for dad?
Tell me why I'm here dad
Whisper in my ear that I'm growing up to be a better man, dad
Everything is fine dad
Proud that you are mine dad
Cause I know I'm growing up to be a better man

Father I will always be
That same boy that stood by the sea
And watched you tower over me
Now I'm older I wanna be the same as you

What's a dad for dad?
Taught me how to stand, dad
Took me by the hand and you showed me how to be a bigger man, dad
Listen when you talk, dad
Follow where you walk, dad
And you know that I will always do the best I can
I can

Father I will always be (always be)
That same boy that stood by the sea ~(the boy that)~
watched you tower over me (over me)
Now I'm older I wanna be the same as you
The same as you

Father I will always be
That same boy that stood by the sea
And watched you tower over me
Now I'm older I wanna be the same as you (x2)[in the backgound 2nd time]

When I am a dad, dad ~(when i am a dad, dad)~
I'm gonna be a good dad ~(i'm gonna be a good dad)~
Did the best you could, dad ~(did the best you could, dad)~
Always understood, dad ~(always understood, dad)~
Taught me what was right, dad ~(taught me what was right, dad)~
Opened up my eyes, dad ~(opened up my eyes, dad)~
Glad to call you my dad ~(Glad to call you my dad)~
Thank you for my life dad

So, you just going to sit there?!?

Short answer? You're damn right.

Now for the longer answer. Not too long ago, we had what I personally consider Manna from Heaven. Allow me to explain...

You know that feeling Christmas morning when you just know it's gonna be a great day full of promise and excitement? Well, when there are signals out or flashing red, I get giddy. That is not poetic license. I may actually utter a "tee" or a "hee" or possibly some combination thereof when I hear that traffic over the radio. Most beat cops couldn't care less. Me? I feel like I've been handed a Louisville Slugger as the salmon are spawning upstream.

At any rate, recently, there was a power failure and we had multiple intersections out. The "tee" and the "hee" having been uttered, I find my way to one of the intersections. At first, I was shocked to see that most folks were abiding by the law. What law, you say? Good for you...

CVC 21800 (d)(1) states, "The driver of any vehicle approaching an intersection which has official traffic control signals that are inoperative shall stop at the intersection, and may proceed with caution when it is safe to do so."

What does that mean exactly? It means that you treat the intersection like a stop sign. Pretty basic, really. At any rate, my shock aside about everyone following the law, a car slowed near me and a veritable angel said, "Excuse me...the intersection west of here is out as well. Hardly anyone is stopping!"

I thanked the good Lord for sending such an emissary my way and headed west. It couldn't have been better. I had an unobstructed view and a shady spot in which to sit. All it was missing was palm fronds wafting in the breeze.

But that's where paradise ends. I saw a little two seater shoot through the intersection like it wasn't even there. I stopped the car, dismounted, walked up and said, "Howdy" and was met with what follows:

IAG (Inappropriately Aghast Guy): So, you just going to sit there at a light that's out and write me a ticket?!?

MC: I'm sorry, sir, I didn't realize it was my fault that you didn't stop at the intersection. I'll be right back.

And I was...right back. The whole stop, from beginning to end, was less than three minutes.

MC: Okay, sir, I need you to sign the highlighted yellow portion at the bottom, please.

IAG: I can't believe this. Why don't you guys direct some traffic instead of writing hard working Americans tickets?

MC: Actually, sir, there are so many intersections out, we don't have the manpower to direct traffic at all of them. As a matter of fact, it's against our policy to do that very thing for a variety of reasons, including what I just explained to you. (And I really wanted to add..."Hard working American? Um...aren't I the one at work right now? Huh." Alas, I did not.)

IAG: What about all the people speeding in front of the high school?

MC: Ah, classic blameshifting, sir. Well played and good luck.

IAG: Classic what?

I went from the stop to the PD anticipating a complaint. I played the stop for my supervisor. Not five minutes later, IAG showed up to complain about my "conduct". If you can believe it, he changed his tune quite a bit after my supervisor explained not only the exact same thing I explained to IAG on the stop, but also my supervisor told IAG he had heard the stop as I record every stop I conduct.

No more complaint. I love my digital recorder. That little piece of technology has saved me from countless, frivolous, bullshit complaints. It's not policy that we use it and you other LEOs might not be required either....but let me encourage you to use one. They are priceless!

For you non-LEOs out there, use this as a learning tool. Remember when the lights flash red or are completely inoperative, treat the intersection like a four-way stop!