Police Oppression
02/26/2002 08:09 a.m.
I hate cops. If it's one thing I can't stand, it's cops. Actually, that's not true. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's stupid people, but that's the subject of an entirely different article, probably a whole series of articles. But if there's two things I can't stand, they're stupid people and cops. And by "cops" I don't mean, "police officers." No, police officers are the friendly neighborhood deputies that everyone in their local small town knows by name and invites over for dinner and is willing to help out and overlooks trivial crimes because he's really there to serve and protect, not simply do his required duty and fill his ticket quota. Cops are the assholes who wait on the side of the road to pull you over if you're going 20 miles over the speed limit because you're going really fucking fast at the beginning of the month, but at the end of the month they'll pull you over for going 3 miles over the speed limit because they have to fill out tickets to reach the number required of them by the Big Bureaucracy that is the Police State of America.
Let me explain. Technically, I was speeding. At one in the morning, I was going 47 miles per hour down Beaver Rd., which was Archer Rd. before it was Beaver Rd., which was Ballantyne Rd. before it was Archer Rd., which was Jefferson St. before it was Ballantyne Rd. The speed limit on Beaver Rd. is 45 mph. Technically, I was speeding, but even this asshole didn't care about that. Instead, he gets close enough to read my license plate (less than a car length, or maybe (strong emphasis on "maybe," but I hate using the caps lock key) a full car length, if it's a compact car, which neither mine or his were) and follows me like this for three miles. I was tempted to slow down to 44 mph just to piss him off, because I hate cops, but I didn't. Then his flashers go on, so I, being a Good Citizen who wasn't doing a God-Damned Thing Wrong to give him a reason to pull me over, pulled over to the side of the road as soon as I noticed, which was immediately, since I was keeping a careful eye on the fucker, seeing as how he was following me so closely and I had seen, thanks to street lamps illuminating his light bar, that he was a cop. I hate cops. Let me make that clear. The more authority these guys have, the more I hate them. Actually, that's not true, either. I hate those glorified-mall-security-guard Ogden Police just as much as a state troopers, but that's largely irrelevant. Okay, so he pulls me over. I figure maybe it was because he thinks I'm drunk. After all, I was driving straight and going the speed limit. Only drunks are that careful, because they're trying not to get pulled over. Then again, maybe it was because it was one in the morning, and as we all know, only drug dealers, drug users, lushes, and Long Haired Hippy Criminals drive that late at night. Then again, maybe it was because this guy was forced to stay up until the UnGodly hours of the night to patrol for drug dealers, drug users, lushes, and Long Haired Hippy Criminals, and he was in a cranky mood. It turns out it was the latter.
You see, while he was following me, he checked my license plate. It turns out the registration and inspection of the car I was driving had both expired. The registration expired 5 days ago. That's it. I know the registration had expired, but not the inspection. I knew this because I was told about the registration, but not the inspection, by the owner of the car, who is not me.
Why wasn't I driving my car? Let's back up a bit, for that. Friday, I was cruising around with some friends of mine in my car, as is my wont to do late on a Friday night. My car's registration has not expired. My car's inspection has not expired. My car was a good car. Was. I stopped at some kid's house to pick him up, and as my friend went inside to get him, I was idling in the driveway. Idling right up to the point my car died. It was sitting there, running fine, and then stopped. It has not since started.
So fast forward to today, when I had a final exam at 4. I don't have a car. "You can borrow my car," says Ken. "The registration has expired, so don't speed, 'cause if you get pulled over, you'll get a ticket for driving an unregistered car." Sure, that's easy enough to do. I can't afford to speed, anyway. Why? Because I have got a speeding ticket over Thanksgiving break. Yes, I was speeding. I was speeding on the most beautiful autumn day you could imagine. The sky was clear, it was early afternoon, the sun was shining brightly. Not another car was on the road as far as I could see. Except one. This car was behing me, and was going fast. I notice he's going fast, so I assume I'm not going very fast and speed up a little bit, not wanting to annoy this person behing me, who must have someplace to go. I don't bother looking at the speedometer, seeing as how it's such a beautiful day, and even if I am going too fast, you couldn't ask for safer conditions in which to do so. So Mr. Guy-in-the-green-chevy-that-made-me-think-I-wasn't-going-very-fast starts to pass me, then suddenly hits his brakes. Why does he brake? Because he sees the state trooper who is waiting to catch people as they're coming around this curve in the road. I see him, too, and finally look at my speedometer. I'm going 82 on the thruway. Before Green Chevy I was going 75. This wouldn't've gotten me pulled over. Eighty-two did, because the asshole trooper didn't care about Green Chevy and didn't care about the fact that before Green Chevy started riding my ass I was going 75 and simply didn't notice because it was such a beautiful day and it still wasn't unsafe to speed and isn't the point of speed limits to keep people safe? and so I had to pay a eighty dollars plus an unregulated thirty-five dollar surcharge (thanks, Irving, for pointing out the fact that, although we're protected by the constitution from excessive fines and bails, there's nothing protecting us from Mandatory New York State Surcharges) while Green Chevy pulled away doing 90 and was never pulled over.
So I can't afford another speeding ticket, so I wasn't speeding. Meanwhile, Monroe County Sheriff Boyce approaches the unregistered, uninspected vehicle I was driving at one in the morning home from a relaxing evening after a stressful final exam which I fucked up, every single light on his car pointed directly at my rear view mirror, including his flashlight and the internal light and his cigarette lighter. "May I see your license and registration, please?"
Now, I don't know why I've been pulled over, so I say, innocently enough, and avoiding malice as much as humanly possible, while I'm already reaching in my pocket to get my license, "Why?" Now, in retrospect, I should've asked, "Gee, why did you pulled me over, officer?" giving him the ol' "but I've never done anything wrong in my whole life! Honest!" voice, but at the time I was too pissed off to consider that option. So Officer Boyce suddenly gets this attitude, like he's dealing with a Wise-ass Hardened Criminal that needs to be Taught A Lesson, and says, "Why!? Because I asked to see them, that's why!" Now, he must have known what I was asking. He hadn't said why I was pulled over, and it should have dawned on him that I wasn't speeding and might like to know why the fuck I was pulled over, and so would say, "Why?" Instead, however, of simply ansering my question, he gets the attitude, so I have to ask again. "No, (right here I was extremely tempted to insert, "you stupid, thick-skulled, pathetic, weak willed, simple minded drone-bitch of a bureaucratic police state," but I didn't) why was I pulled over? ("as if you didn't understand what I meant the first time I asked, you ugly, ignorant son of a whore that's too brainwashed to think for yourself and ended up becoming a county sheriff because you were too stupid and lazy to enter the F.B.I. and so you're stuck writing traffic tickets to otherwise law-abiding college students who have a hell of a lot more of a future than you do at one in the morning on a monday and is this really what you saw yourself doing now, ten years ago?" but I didn't say that, either)"
Then he lightens up a bit. I'll give him credit for that, but he was still pissing me off. He asks the usual questions: do I have any outstanding tickets? do I have any warrants for my arrest? is there a dead body in the trunk? To which I give the usual answers: no, no, no (not that you know of, anyway, and you can't look unless you have reasonable cause, prick). He then goes back to his car and dicks around for a while. I sit. And wait. And wait. Last time I got pulled over it didn't take this long, and considering the hour there must be fewer queries for whatever system they use to look up the criminal records of Unsuspecting Motorists, so it should be quicker. And I wait. Finally, he comes back out and hands me two tickets. He could've given me three, since I couldn't find the most recent, unexpired insurance card (ah, yes, Required By Law Automobile Insurance, insurance being a luxury, a voluntary purchase, but if you don't like it you can move to Russia you filthy Commie bastard), but he was feeling nice and understanding of my plight, I driving someone else's car and being unaware that the registration and inspection had expired (or at least, that's what I told him, because I didn't really feel like explaining the whole situation, since that would've started me on a rant in which I would've had to mention my extreme dislike of all authority figures, and that probably wouldn't've sat well with him), and so didn't issue the third ticket which could've had my car towed away then and there, leaving me stranded in a police station at two in the morning with no money. Gee, thanks, Officer Boyce. Not that I'm bitter, or anything. I still hate cops, though.
So, now the owner of the car has to get the damned thing registered and inspected and put the bloody insurance card in the glove compartment and show up with me in court on March 14 at 6:30 in the evening to help me explain that I didn't know it wasn't registered or inspected (again, this is what we're going to tell them, because a longer explanation is unnecessary and irrelevant, anyway) so we can hopefully get the tickets dismissed and never speak of this incident again.
And that's why I'm going to be late for rehearsal that Thursday. Oh, and I hate cops.

I am currently Pissed Off
I am listening to more silence

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Journal Entry
02/24/2002 07:43 a.m.
alienated is the first mood that fit, but lost is more appropriate but they don't have lost and apathetic is spelled incorrectly this is what i notice late at night when i've had too little sleep and feel like writing but i don't know what i feel like writing or to whom i feel like writing no poetry will come, not precisely, and i don't have a live journal so i guess this will do i think i'm going to go stare at the moon for a while first, though
the moon however is covered by clouds only occasionally peaking her visage through the cracks in the sky to peer down at insignificant me i can hear you now "you're not insignificant because i don't think you're insignificant" i guess that's why i love you because sometimes you're wiser than i'll ever be i admire you for it, i admire you because there are things that are a part of you that will never be a part of me, because you really do love me and love other people and i can't stand humanity and even though i can't stand humanity you still love me i'll be honest, i don't understand you, i don't understand what you see in me that i don't see magnified in other people; bah, i'm being obsequious again and i can't stand obsequity i can't stand my own mind to steal a line from the late allen ginsberg
i'm not abusing drugs if the drugs enjoy it
i need to get the fuck out of this city it's driving me crazy i can't stand it anymore every now and then i just need to leave to get the hell out always know when to get out of rochester and now is the time but my car died again the fucker this is the second time in as many months it wouldn't be so bad if my previous car hadn't died back in june and then again more permanently in august so right now i'm without a car and it's really starting to piss me off i have no luck with cars i hate them i can't tell you how much i hate them i should be in buffalo right now 80 miles away from this fucking city enjoying the night with friends drinking dancing reveling in sinless innocence but instead i'm stuck at home trying to think of something to write and yelling at the moon about my car troubles as if she can do anything to fix it
the content advisor helps protect our younger viewers because the things i write in this journal entry are going to scar some young child for life because i said fuck or i wrote about aggressive violence or death to humans yes this is going to change that child's life forever i think it's really to protect the parents they're the ones who are afraid to read what i write they're the ones who don't want to know about sex their children don't know about sin yet it's us adults who have been trained to feel guilty and ashamed about our actions
the world sickens me sometimes and now is one of those times maybe i should put some smashing pumpkins on but maybe i prefer the silence right now the not quite silence of the night frosty and cold the clouds covering over the naked moon even she feels guilty ashamed even she hides her body from sight god i miss you right nowi'm sick of sleeping alone all the time i want to feel you near me again and soon enough i will assuming i can figure a way to drive down there since i don't have a fucking car again it just stalled and never started again like an old man who has a heart attack you just watch him fall suddenly asleep and he never wakes up great that brought back memories that didn't need to be brought back right now fuck my mind my subconscious is out to get me i even named it upon the suggestion of a friend of mine it's called the Hand of Ulysses and it hates me i'm not sure why maybe because it's in conflict with my superego all the time because of those societally enforced moral standards that conflict with natural programming lousy judeo-christian ethical code
i learned a new word the other day rigmutton it means a wanton wench that is ready to ride upon men's backs or else to passively be their rompstall i do n't know what rompstall means but i think i can guess i'm going to start using that word as often as i can shit now i have to change the sex advisory too just in case some fourteen year old girl or her forty year old mother happen upon my newly formed online journal and figures out what rompstall means not that i'm bitter or anything
beer and wine and painkillers it's not abuse if they enjoy it
well fuck i might as well put some violence in too how about destruction of realistic objects yeah that'll do nothing too severe but not simply injury to human beings wait the fuckin' minute !! !! when the fucking hell did destruction of fucking realistic objects become more offensive to minors than injury to human beings!@?!?!?!?!?!m look at the advisory ratings: injury to human beings is lower than destruction of realistic objects! does this make sense to you? fuck! dammit, now i have to upgrade the language warning, because we all know that exposing children to the word fuck will turn them into social deviants with a penchant for violence i mean look at me!
right, so destruction of realistic objects: i hate my car, it's a black car, mistubishi mirage '91 that leaks oil like an italian (dammit a racial slur - up the language rating again!) and i think if i can ever start it again i'm going to drive 100 miles per hour assuming i can get the thing to even go that fast off an embankment with me seatbelt on so i'll survive but the car will be totaled just so i can watch the fucker get completely destroyed as it rolls end over end through guard rails and children (dammit - aggressive violence to humans, up the violence rating!) and finally comes to a halt on the neighbor's dog (notice animals aren't mentioned at all in the violence rating system) smoking and about to explode so i'll have just enough time to run the fuck away before it combusts into a fiery mushroom of burning death into the night sky and i'll laugh because i'm getting sick of that fucking car dying all the time not that i'm bitter or anything
does that count as wanton gratuitous violence? i don't think so, which is so great about a subjective rating system!! i think it's merely aggressive violence, therefore it's merely aggressive violence, and i haven't portrayed any sex crimes yet but wait prostitution is both a crime and involves sex, therefore it's a sex crime! haha, all i have to do is say the word whore and it ups the sex rating!
i'm going to go to the bathroom, i'll continue in a minute
okay i'm back and butthole surfers is stuck in my head giddy hanes' voice is repeating the same lines over and over again to psychotic music in the background of my diseased skull and i tihnk i 'm done for now so i'll just add this entry and call it a night unless i think to add something else in which case you'll see another entry right after this one
and, in closing, fuck the bozos! yeah, i think that's my mood, "fuck the bozos!"
I am currently Alienated
I am listening to the quiet hum of the fan in the hard drive

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