caffeinated chaos

In continuing with my cop theme started in the last post, I have to confess that I didn’t really mean to make a cop theme at all.. it’s just that in the eighties I used to listen to cops on a scanner because I was bored out of my freakin’ skull due to the internet not existing yet, and I was telling this story to someone the other day and it occurred to me that it’d make a halfway interesting blog post, now that the internet exists.

At least I hoped it would.

I lived in San Diego, so I’d listen to San Diego cops on one of the five dispatch channels they used at the time.  I’d be listening to whatever channel covered whatever area I happened to be in and I’d think, “Whoa, that’s going on right down the block!” or “Hey, that’s only up the street and over around the bend!”

Yes, I actually say “whoa” and “hey” in my thoughts.

So, this one time years ago, I was listening as some female officer was either pursuing a suspect or answering some kind of burglary call - I forget exactly what was going on because it was almost 20 years ago and I can’t remember what I had for breakfast - but I DO remember that she cornered the suspect, or “perp” as they’re known in the biz, and she radioed dispatch to inform them that she had him at gunpoint.

She said..

“One thirty two and Bush, I’ve got him at gunpoint.”

To which the dispatcher responded..

“Okay gunpoint.. one thirty two and Bush.. cover’s code three.”

I was in the area that night and heard the whole thing as it unfolded, all the way up to the arrest at gunpoint.  I thought, “Whew, I’m glad they got that guy!”

Yes, I thought “whew”.. what of it?

A month or so later I was watching the Fox TV show “COPS” with my roommate, and the camera crew was following around this female officer in San Diego.  We were digging on seeing scenes they shot of familiar territory when something resonated with me.. the action taking place was familiar too.

Damn, wait a minute!  HEY!  I heard this entire thing on my scanner one night.. LIVE!

We watched as the cop cornered the “perp”, and then informed dispatch that she had him at gunpoint.

“One thirty two and Bush, I’ve got him at gunpoint.”

To which the dispatcher responded..

“Okay gunpoint.. one thirty two and Bush.. cover’s code three.”

Okay, THAT was weird!

And not only that, but the show has been around for a couple of decades now and they’ve decided that..

“One thirty two and Bush, I’ve got him at gunpoint.”

..is a great little tag to put at the end of each episode as it rolls into the credits.  That lady cop has been announcing that she has her perp at gunpoint since 1989, and every time I hear it I think back to that night when I was listening to San Diego police officers gallivant around town arresting perps at gunpoints and I remember how I wished at the time that the darned internet would just hurry up and make itself available to the general public already.

I mentioned HULU.COM in my last post too, because it carries ADAM-12, which I mentioned but it also carries COPS, so if you want to hear that tag then check out this random episode of COPS and pay attention to the end of it, at exactly 20:56 as the cop arrests the scary bald tweaker dude and the scene fades into the credits.

I promise that my next post shall mention neither COPS nor HULU.COM, unless I get arrested for watching HULU or something, because that would be a helluva story wouldn’t it?

No video?  You either live outside of the US or you’re getting this post via email.. so come to the darned site already!

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Lately, I’ve been absent - a fugitive from the social and literary world, plunging myself into escapist entertainment.  I haven’t posted here in, gosh.. a week or more.. and a lot of other things have slipped off to the side of the road as I’ve whizzed merrily along in my mirth-mobile, randomly running down responsibilities like they were so much roadkill.

Blame HULU.COM

The latest stream of latent entertainment that’s rendered me useless is that classic cop show, ADAM-12.  I started watching at the beginning - “Log 1: The Impossible Mission” and I haven’t been able to stop.

When you’re dreaming you don’t usually know it, and I didn’t know I was dreaming when the knock on the door resounded throughout our tiny household.  It sent a slight chill down my spine, because I somehow innately knew who’d be standing there when I opened the door.  I was right.

It was Officer Malloy with his young and eager partner, Officer Reed.

They looked as though they’d just stepped out of 1968.  No belt radios - too bulky for cops to carry around back then - and their uniforms were LAPD circa late sixties.  They weren’t in black and white but their color was off.. just something about it, you know?  It wasn’t quite natural, with its muddy texture.  I could see their car; that spiffy little Plymouth Belvedere parked behind them.  The car was black and white, but that’s a cop car for ya.

Malloy spoke up..

“Sir, we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

I knew what they were here for.  It was this blog.  It hadn’t been updated, and that’s just criminal.  There are people out there counting on me and they’d been let down.  I should go to jail.  1968 jail, full of hippie radicals and druggies hopped up on bennies.

I looked over Malloy and Reed’s uniforms.  I took a lingering glance at the car parked behind them.  Then I said the only thing that came to mind and, even though it was stating the obvious, it seemed to work..

“Guys, you’re a little late, aren’t ya?”

They glanced at each other and seemed to mull this over for a few seconds.  Then, with a shrug, Malloy extended his hand for a shake.  I half expected this to be the “shake my hand but then snap the cuffs on me” ploy, but I really had no choice but to accept his hopefully sincere gesture of apology.  Where would I run too?  And I’d seen enough episodes now to know that Reed would take me down within twenty feet.  Long legs on that guy.

“Sir, you make a good point.  We’ll be on our way.”

His handshake was firm.  No handcuff trick; just a meaningful grasp that spoke more than he’d said verbally during our brief exchange.  They strolled to the Plymouth and, just as they got in and cleared this call, the radio crackled with the voice of that sexy sounding dispatcher - the one who was ALWAYS on duty when they were.

“One Adam 12, see the man with the gun.  Knives and chains involved.  415 domestic code three, at 2730 La Brea.”

Off they sped, the tires of the Belvedere squealing with glee at the anticipation of sliding up to a fight, the blue smoke boiling off of them as the sprightly officers lept out and joined the foray.

I drifted off to sleep and mulled over the encounter I’d just had with my own conscience, knowing full well I’d better act because if I didn’t, then next time I might actually be hauled off to the pokie.  The 1968 pokie, with color tv burglars and bank robbers in hats and ties.

I like Reed and Malloy.  But I’d rather avoid future encounters, so here I am.. posting.  But if you’ve been posting too much yourself and need a break, then here they are.. in the first episode ever.

God bless Hulu.com.. but only in the US.

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I told the kid that he had to stop skateboarding in our loading dock, and he asked me if there was a skatepark he could go to.  I told him to walk through the complex out onto Hollywood Boulevard, turn right and proceed about 100 feet to the front of the Chinese Theater, where he’d see Crocodile Dundee, whom he should ask because if anyone would know it would be him.

This is because Crocodile Dundee wasn’t the real Crocodile Dundee, as in actor Paul Hogan, but rather he was a guy named Don (something.. I can’t remember his last name) who’d been a professional skateboarder who’d given up the sport after a knee injury and then started hustling tourists for tips on Hollywood Boulevard because Superman said that he looked like Crocodile Dundee and that he’d make a killing out there.

I was a security guy in the Hollywood & Highland complex, and I knew Superman because he was our neighbor.  I knew Don (something) because Superman had introduced us and it was he who told me that Don (something) had been a pro skateboarder.

On that day, I’d been making rounds earlier and I saw the whole gang - Superman, Batman, Elmo, Wonder Woman AND Crocodile Dundee out there hustling for tips, so when I went back to the loading dock and found the skateboarding kid, it was Don (something) - aka Crocodile Dundee - who I thought of when the kid asked for a skatepark.

The kid looked at me like I’d just suggested that he put on a dress, rent a donkey and go rob a library, but I guess he went and found Don (something), because I saw him coming through the complex several hours later and when I asked him if he’d found him okay, the kid excitedly replied..

“Dude, that was DON (SOMETHING), and he used to skate, man!  I totally knew him!  He autographed my board, dude!  And yeah, he directed me to a rippin’ skatepark!  Thanks, man!

I was pleased as punch that it had all worked out.

Later, a guy asked me if I knew where he could buy some good weed.

I directed him to Superman.

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There’s this little white tweaker dude who used to ride the city bus system. He’s about 5′4, scrawny with tangled dirty blond hair and always a few days of scraggly growth on his chin. Sometimes he carries a skateboard, but mostly he just lugs around a big attitude.

I was on board one of the city buses a couple of weeks ago when he got kicked off, and I don’t think he’s allowed back on. He was bounced because he was acting up and causing a scene, so the driver pulled over and ordered him to disembark. He argued briefly but when the driver radioed dispatch to send police, tweaker dude complied. As the bus pulled away, he stood there defiantly on the sidewalk with his right hand thrust forward, extended at arm’s length in a pseudo salute of some kind.

I didn’t realize what kind of salute it was until yesterday.

He approached me while I was at my neighborhood stop waiting for the same bus. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming as he opened his mouth to ask for a handout. “Just a few bucks to get something to eat at McDonald’s, man!”

I’m not adverse to helping someone out, but not when they reek of alcohol and their pupils are the size of quarters in broad daylight - if I can’t afford alcohol and drugs, why should I feed someone who can?

As I declined his offer to deprive me of the few bucks I had on me at the time, he quickly flew into a rage and stomped off shouting, “Happy Hanukkah, Mother Fucker!” Then, he raised his hand in the salute again - fingers thrust forward with the palm of his hand downward - and he goosestepped all the way across the street.

He thought I was Jewish!

Then it dawned on me what the salute was all about - he’s a white supremacist!

It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed that hard.

I doubt he reads this blog - or anything, for that matter - but I just HAVE to say this to him..

“Mr. white supremacist tweaker dude, PLEASE stop representing Caucasians in any way, shape or form. For one thing, I’m not Jewish.. I’m of European descent (Scottish).  As such, I really don’t think you’re an appropriate role model for white people. For one thing, I’ve never seen you sober. For another, you always seem to cause a scene in public, and people just laugh at you. You’re nothing but offensive, and you smell bad. Plus, if you thought I was Jewish, you’re not that bright.. so please, just stop. If you need to represent a class of people, please represent drunks and/or tweakers. You could be the poster child. Thank you.”

I *briefly* thought of this pathetic little dude last night as the election was called and Barack Obama was named President Elect of the United States. I’ve not been one to think of race very much during his campaign, but I couldn’t help pondering what this guy’s reaction would be.

I’m sure I’d love it.

On a final note, moments after tweaker dude shouted antisemitic remarks at European me before gleefully goosestepping away yesterday, a young black girl walked up to wait for the bus. I’d never seen her before, which is odd considering that I catch that same bus at the same time at that same stop several days a week. She was absolutely gorgeous, and smiled very sweetly when I said hi to her. She didn’t know how grateful I was that she’d so narrowly missed white supremacist tweaker dude.

I hope she continues to miss him.

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