Better And Better

If you don't draw yours, I won't draw mine. A police officer, working in the small town that he lives in, focusing on family and shooting and coffee, and occasionally putting some people in jail.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Might wanna pick other friends, meth head edition.

Suppose you're a multi-time loser. Suppose you've committed scores of felonies, been arrested for dozens, and been convicted and served time for a good half dozen felonies, each of a different flavor. Some are for stealing. Some are for hurting people. Some are for doing drugs. Some are for selling drugs. You're an equal opportunity felon. Now suppose you're going to go do some more drugs, in a town 25 miles from home, and you pick up a buddy to do those drugs with. So far, the one good decision that you've made in life is that you haven't gotten inked while in the joint. You're unmarked. You're polite to the cops when you're stopped for a minor infraction. The cops might let you go with a warning or a ticket, without snooping. But not your friend. But your runnin' buddy has prison tats on his arms. And on his neck. And on his fingers. White power tats. White supremacy gang tats. All are clearly the work of an amateur prison tatooist. This causes the cops to sniff a little more into both the histories of your buddy, and yourself. This inquiry into your colorful past, heretofore unknown to the cops that just stopped you, causes a closer look at you and your car, which leads to your methamphetamine being found.

Protective camouflage fail*.

_ _ _ _
Now suppose that you're another multi-time loser. You've done some time for beating on your old ladies, and for different drug offenses. Your most recent wife, whom you've lately divorced, has moved back in with you. When you get irritated at her for not making you dinner, you slap her upside the head. She runs out and calls the cops. They see that she's been smacked, and take a statement. She mentions the methamphetamine that you so like to do. She gives the cops a detailed description of its location. She then, as a rent-paying resident of that apartment, gives the cops consent to look through her apartment, shared by your own wife-beating self. The cops go up, knock on the door, and arrest you for the assault, and for the meth that they find handily.

Relationship fail.*

Does it seem to you that you might want to associate with different people? I'm just sayin'.

*Of course I'm not speaking about anyone specific, here. I'm just talking figuratively, you know?

Labels: , ,


At Wednesday, May 26, 2010 1:24:00 PM, Blogger Kristophr said...

Criminals think they are Al Mundy. They are blissfully unaware that they are really Ted Bundy.

This is good. I like it when predators that are arrayed against me are bone stupid.

Even Al admitted he would have made better money flipping burgers at McD's then his hourly net for committing crimes.

The smart criminals are all raking in billions at the government pork trough, legally.

At Wednesday, May 26, 2010 4:22:00 PM, Blogger Old NFO said...

Um... wouldn't that assume they still had productive brain cells??? That were talking to each other???

At Sunday, May 30, 2010 12:51:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

That's why they call it DOPE. I am astonished at the number of defendants who report for court in possession of drugs, and never give a thought to the security check point at the front door.
Andy Ford


Post a Comment

<< Home

Add to Technorati Favorites