Archive for don’t taze me bro

Forever holler hoody hoo

Posted in Blog with tags , , , , on August 21, 2009 by trevorgregg

Music – Buena Vista Social Club – Dos Gardenias Para Ti

Heather Fong is retiring, and she will not be missed.    If there is any justice in the world Newsom will bestow upon her that most coveted medal, San Francisco’s Crumpled-up Aluminum Foil Star, an award given only to those whose careers have been a most sterling example of Ineffectuality In Government Bureaucracy.  The creme-de-la-creme of hapless state-employed failbags.

She’s being replaced by some assbite from Arizona whose name escapes me.  Our newly chosen police chief, eager to appear proactive as leader of Our Fair Shithole’s finest, went on several ride-alongs in SF’s more troubled neighborhoods.  He told the Chronicle that he was shocked to see people selling drugs in broad daylight in the TL, a mere four blocks from City Hall.  I showed this article to some friends and we had a good laugh.

Welcome to the big city you bumpkin fuck.

Crackheads, along with pigeons, are the ones who control the streets of San Francisco.  Not the cops.  Anyone who’s been naive enough to report a crime in San Francisco understands that the police fulfill a largely ceremonial role rather than serving any practical purpose.  Based on my experiences, I’ve compiled an accurate list of the daily tasks for SFPD beat cops as mandated by the department:

1) Parade / Event Management
2) Get Starbucks
3) Drive Around / Set Up Some Cones In The Street
4) Give Directions to Tourists
5) Parking Enforcement
6) Union Meetings
7) Maybe Do Some Paperwork
8) Investigate Crimes In Affluent Neighborhoods

You’ll notice there’s nothing in there about drug enforcement, vandalism, prostitution, panhandling, etc.  I’ve had occasion to call the police several times since I moved here, for a variety of reasons, and though they’ve always been cordial nothing was ever actually done.  The first time I called because someone was breaking into the car in front of my apartment while I watched.  The second was because my roommate’s car had been broken into and her shoes, loose change, and Stevie Wonder’s Greatest Hits cd stolen.  The third was because an angry hobo wouldn’t leave our vestibule at the studio.  The fourth because a crackhead was getting a bj from another crackhead in our studio parking lot.   Not exactly life-threatening situations to be sure, but all falling squarely within the popo’s sphere of responsibility.  Although they did come by and chase off both the giver and receiver in the bj incident, the police made no visible effort to rectify any of the other situations.

The modern metropolitan man, it seems, is left to fend for himself.  We’ve been forced to employ a guard-hobo for our parking lot who, in exchange for cigarettes, stands guard against other more-unpleasant hobos, prostitutes, and junkies.  His name is Steve, and he does a good job.

Oh but the police have the time and manpower to hand out tickets in Dolores Park for drinking in public even when there’s no disturbance or rowdiness involved.  They don’t have time to protect my small business from constant vandalism or crackheads taking a dump and passing out in our entryway in broad daylight (true story), but they can go hassle some hipsters for bringing a six-pack of PBR to the park on a Saturday afternoon.  Not that I have anything against hipster oppression; in fact it makes me almost physically ill to side with them, but fuck, come on.  Much as I’d like to see them and their fixie bikes thrown under the tires of a speeding squad car, they’re really pretty harmless as a demographic.  If you’re gonna write tickets for DIP, why not also enforce it for those dudes on Jones street who only set their forties down long enough to stab each other’s whores and rob 7-11s?  Why not concern yourself with things like murder and theft and gunfights in Northbeach rather than impounding goddamn hotdog carts for operating without a health permit?

What’s worse, unlicensed hotdogs or murder?  Broadway on a Saturday night is like a miniature Tijuana, people throwing bottles and fistfighting and shooting each other…  all kind of unruly badness.

Breaking in to cars is the #1 most popular part-job in San Francisco county, but god forbid they investigate that shit when there are leashless dogs frolicking in our parks.  MA’AM YOU NEED TO PUT THAT GODDAMN PUG ON A LEASH BEFORE I HAUL YOU IN. HE’S A FUCKING MENACE TO SOCIETY.

The whole force seems to suffer from serious Forest-For-The-Trees disease.  I mean hey, I’ve watched The Wire, I understand that policing a big city is a righteous pain in the ass logistically speaking.  I also understand that Joe Q. Flatfoot has little to no say in what his policing prioirities are.  I certainly would not trade places with a beat cop even if it means I get to taze and drop-kick any and all motherfuckers who dare sass me.  It’s a hard job, and I do not envy them.

Maybe this new dude, Chief Whatever from Arizona, will move beyond SF’s venerable Contain and Ignore strategy.  Maybe he’ll work on combatting actual crimes rather than being some Neighborhood Association’s fucking noise-level enforcement squad.  Maybe Newsom’s War on Fun will be put on hold in favor of things like murder investigations.  Maybe he’ll make an effort to KEEP CRACKHEADS FROM STEALING ALL OUR CAR STEREOS EVERY DAMN NIGHT.

Maybe.

And maybe ten-thousand Dutch-speaking pigs with gossamer fairy-wings will fly out of my ass and begin distributing free diamond-studded mountain bikes to anyone with proof of SF residency.

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