Subject: Re: Your Reverend Mutha Discovers the Police State
Date: Sun, 26 Oct 1997 05:14:14 GMT
From: firstname.lastname@example.org.NOSPAM (st bubba)
Organization: iSTAR internet Incorporated
On Sat, 25 Oct 1997 14:33:11 GMT, !!!email@example.com (TarlaStar)
>Well Kids, I discovered that we really DO live in a police state. It's
>not just a joke we make. Allow me to describe my Wednesday and
>Thursday of this week.
<snip harrowing tale>
i had a bad experience with the local rcmp that was
kindasortanotreally like this.
early last spring, after the wife and i finished smoking a fairly
gooey joint of oil and frappy, and being the weather was good for once
here in cape breton, i thot i'd do something useful, and wandered out
to my beat up hyundai, popped in my royal philharmonic orchestra does
pink fflloyd cd, and started cleaning my habitually messy beater.
not ten minutes into this herculean effort, a gold car comes down my
driveway, stops outside the wrought iron gate and out step two plai>
clothed gentlemen. at first i figgered they were tourists who got lost
which happens a lot out here being that i live dead center in the
middle of no-where, so all buzzing and friendly, i approach the gate
and ask if they need assistance.
i got about five steps in their direction when the big bald one
<henceforth named "bad cop"> pulls out one of dem nifty "this is my
badge-be impressed" wallits and tells me to put my hands on my head.
at this point two police cars converge from either direction along the
road and uniformed officers get out, shotguns aimed vguely in my
i ask bad cop what the fuck is going on, wherein he again tells me to
put my hands over my head. i decide, considering all govening
circumstances, that this is a GOOD IDEA. his partner, called for
arguments sakes "good cop", attempts to vault over my gate, fails
miserably and falls on his ass. the frappy in my system takes over and
i start giggling. BAD THING to do. bad cop gets right testy and starts
asking me rapid fire questions. he asks where i'm from, being as he
already KNOWS that my wife and i recently bought our property. he asks
who i am. i tell him my name, which, being VERY irish, he decides is
"give me your wallet" he states. i show him my drivers liscence, he
slips back in my car and punches my name into their 'puter. meanwhile,
good cop, now unrumpled, steps over to the gate and attempts to
unlatch it. my wife comes out at this point <having secreted out our
frappy plants when she saw the cruisers> and inquires whats happening.
she also gets the "hans on yer noggin" treatment i got. thing is with
my wife, she dont much like authority so stalks to the gate, unlatches
it for befuddled good cop and again asks whats up.
good cop informs me that my name had been mentioned in connection with
a brutal murder in abbotsford, british columbia, and that yours truly
was to be arrested in connection with such. he proceeds to let us know
that he's certain im aforementioned killer because my wife and i moved
to cape breton from b.c. a mere month after the murder. this to him,
and the fact i VAGUELY resembled the wa6ted police sketch, was a
my wife asks what the gun toting mounties at the edge of the property
are for then...
"well, ma'am, we happen to know you have a black badge in pistol
shooting and we are protecting our assets" good cop informs us.
bad cop gets back out of the car, scowling..."mr. stuart is an
IMMIGRANT" he states distastefully, "held kilmainham jail for 3 days
under questioning for republican sympathies."
"a TERRORIST?" good cop inquires with a smile.
"looks that way." bad cop states.
both detectives saunter into my yard screaming at me to get prone on
my belly, hands behind my back. now, of all times, my peak from the
joint fifteen minutes hits, so everything starts feeling a bit
surreal. they hold my head forcefully to the lawn while handcuffing
me, asking my wife questions.
after a few minutes of my wife telling the cops that they can rot in
the deepest pits of the stygian realms, they grab me under the armpits
and literally THROW me in the backseat of their car.
now, im stoned, i know i didnt kill nobody and these guys are getting
on my nerves. far be it for me to actually CO-OPERATE with these vile
beast, i begin de-riding them about the lack of saetbelt use in their
car <"but of course you don't need to wear 'em," says i, "you're cops,
you dont NEED to obey the law."> this earns me a backhanded cuff from
we pull into st peters, the nearest town with a plice station <pop:
500> and since this station has no interview room, im set
<unhandcuffed now> in the squad room. they leave me a phone to call my
lawywr, of which i have none and cliches aside, ordering takeout at
that moment with an o>set of munchies sounded good. when i called out
of the room to see if any one else wanted anything, they took the
phone away from me...go figger.
good cop comes in as im poking through their fridge, trying to find
the donuts <they had NONE, which i thot a flagrant disregard to my
constitutional rights..they didnt agree> and begin the interview. he
starts asking questions about my subgenius membership card, my divine
excuse from my billfold <"you a satanist?">, asking questions about
the murder, which of course i know sweet fuck all about.
bad cop comes in to see how the interview is going and makes hisself
cup of coffee..he wont make me one though..so much for "serve and
when they dont get the answers they want <that being a confession i
figger> they get out the EVIDENCE KIT. hair sample, teeth bite thingy,
saliva sample, blood sample, although i drew the line on the semen
fifteen mintes later, they comein, all apologetic and interupting
Jeopardy! on their tv which i couldnt fi>d the remote for, telling me
that "i guess we made a mistake"
they did get real petty though, and charged me with fraud because the
birth date on my health card was 3 days different from my drivers
liscence. that charge however didnt see court.
i leave the squad room, still stoned and bitching about their lack of
donuts to witness the wife in her glory screaming at bad cop for
impeding our lives, filling out complaint reports and generally
insulting his penile agilityor lack thereof...
the good thing about this story is that when i went in a month ago to
register my new gun, the local seargent offered donuts and coffee....
15th secular temple
of lenny & squiggy