By guest blogger Officer Zed
Want to visualize me in your mind while I talk to you? Visualize “Agent X” in the Brewster Rockit comic strip, but instead of the trenchcoat I wear a blue suit bearing the Police Department badge of a big Northeastern city. Never mind which one.
My politics are strongly Republican—Rand Paul’s variety more than Mitt Romney’s. They’ve been that way for years, and when you’re Black that can make life….interesting. Not only that….I am an Air Force veteran, so Janet Napolitano thinks I’m some kind of militia guy. I also belong to Oath Keepers–Morris Dees and his fellow travelers want me buried under a FEMA camp.
I am a member of the Tea Party Patriots–they guided me to this blog! I am honored to be a guest and I’ve got a lot to say about how Political Correctness has ruined many things, starting with public dialogue. That said…..
Mitt dropped the ball on November 6th! Before he made that speech about “the 47%,” he should have thought about something–a quarter of that 47% are getting benefits they earned ! The following describes two of the remaining three-quarters of that 47%, and those of you who are on “The Job” will immediately recognize them.
I am assigned to a two-man unit that does prisoner transport—from lockup to courthouse—first thing in the morning, and when necessary, for the rest of the tour. The rest of the time, we patrol the district, chase calls, and transport other units’ arrests to the lockup—anything the dispatcher sends us.
One of the regular calls is to broom the druggies and drunks out of parks and playgrounds on the district. When my partner and I got to the playground for this particular call, the guest of honor was sitting at a circular table passed out. A shopping cart from Home Depot was next to him, containing a plastic bag full of empty cans and bottles; he was eventually going to redeem them for money for more cheap vodka.
He was known to us, and an SSI recipient. Some SSI recipients are genuinely handicapped—others are nothing but taxpayer-funded druggies and drunks.
Some years ago, “reform” of the system was attempted—and the Social-Work Industrial Complex responded by lobbying with liberal politicians and forging an alliance with the Mental-Illness Industrial Complex. Now the “disability” of alcohol and drug addiction is a “mental disorder,” therefore a “disability.” “Mental disability” keeps the money flowing, along with revolving-door “detox” and “rehab.” It’s the dirty little secret of Social Security reform, and the media won’t address it.
A bystander, known to us as a sometime drinking buddy of the Guest Of Honor, told us he had to pick up his niece at her elementary school in an hour. How, I thought. And what sort of teacher or aide would turn a child over to a drunk at school dismissal? I guess the American Federation of Teachers, who were all-out for getting Obama four more years, would not care to force outmoded cultural mores upon an evolving society.
“I’ll call his daughter,” Bystander said. “She’ll pick up her kid….but she’ll have to leave work early.”
We tried to wake Guest Of Honor with every technique we’ve learned in our collective years on the street—and finally, he opened one bloodshot, glassy eye. The rest of him didn’t move or respond to our commands so we called city Emergency Medical Services; as the ambulance arrived, my partner and I noticed Guest Of Honor had soiled himself.
“He’s got another half-pint in his jacket pocket,” Bystander said. “I’ll get rid of it for ya.”
Bystander was right. Before the ambulance crew loaded him onto the gurney I took it out—a half-pint of torpedo alcohol with a fake Russian name, masquerading as vodka. I emptied it onto the asphalt as Bystander looked on with a face that said he was losing a good friend, if not a free buzz. We knew, sooner or later, that Guest Of Honor and Bystander would be back.
The next shining example of that three-quarters of the 47% came to us as a routine call; our department rank-and file, the real street cops, call all such calls “Baby-Mama Drama.”
Dispatch (and the trip-sheet on our Mobile Display Terminal) told us the female caller was being (1) held against her will, (2) by her baby’s father who was armed with a knife, (3) and that he had hit her in the face, pulled her hair, and was (according to baby-mama) on probation, complete with ankle bracelet.
When we got there, Baby-Mama stood in the hallway of the apartment building, one-year-old baby on her hip, tapping her foot. The look on her face (which bore no signs of injury whatsoever) was one of angry entitlement.
She was newly eighteen, a single mom living with her single-mom older sister, getting every benefit she could—because she was entitled. Her entitlement mentality was inherited from her older sister, her mother, and her grandmother; why work when you can find a suitable (!) babydaddy on the “co’nah?” And have babies, get more money loaded on your EBT card with each one, get a Section 8 apartment and food stamps?
I wonder how Baby-Mama and Baby-Daddy would react if they knew what then-President Lyndon Johnson said to his aides (privately) after he signed the legislation that legitimized the entitlements? I won’t repeat it here, because it’s easy to find on the Internet, and racist to boot; I suspect that even if they knew what LBJ said, they’d still take the bennies because they have no shame and not much of a work ethic. But I digress….back to the story.
As I wrote down the particulars, I realized her story had changed—she herself said, “How he gonna hold me against my will—it’s my house!”
Our suspect was long gone, having fled before we got there (sick of Miss Thang, no doubt) and Miss Thang made sure to mention that before he fled, he took both her new cellphones. Guess who provided those cellphones? Baby-Mama and Baby-Daddy didn’t work for them—you and I did!
Anyway, after I got the info I’d need to write the report, we left. And as we arrived at the station and got out of the van, Dispatch….sent us back. Miss Thang told the call screener, this time, that her older sister had hit her, pushed her and pulled her hair. Okay, fine….
We returned, and Miss Thang told me her story. My partner got the more plausible version from the older sister; the Assailant told him that she had scolded her younger sister for her immaturity. Miss Thang got in her face in the hallway, cussing her out and not allowing her to go to the kitchen–and the Assailant brushed past her. It wasn’t the Crime Of The Century—it was an immature, entitled fool who wasn’t getting her way. One of a vast cohort of immature, lazy, entitled fools.
Mitt Romney could have—should have–pointed out that some of the 47% he spoke of are getting earned benefits. I just told you about two of the rest who taxpayers are paying to be drunks, junkies or Baby-Mamas.
(I began this blog entry on November 27, long before Adam Lanza did what he did, and there’s much to say about the controversy resulting from that. Stay tuned!)