Imagine the cheek involved in some of the latest capers found in our undocumented immigrant’s paradise.
If you sneak into this country, you’re immediately covered by the local state, county, or municipality for every conceivable medical need for free, including those of your hundreds of close and not-so-close family members, far above that routinely offered to the real American peasants and veterans who are paying for this largesse.
In your spare time from dodging meaningful legal employment, from the schools you pay nothing to support, and far from the routine day-to-day business regimen of your favorite Democrat solons, all neck deep in the public trough, you decide to mosey on over to your local green space and duke it out with the police because you’re dissatisfied with the vast amount freebies you immediately qualified for combined with the need for a greater dollop of human respect to be ladled out from the tureens of those at work. And you do it because it’s time for the UN-approved, Raul Castro practicing, Schumer and Pelosi blessed international holidays dedicated to goading the local police with rocks, man-portable missiles, and yes, hurled epithets.
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But nowhere in your responsibilities are you expected to obey the lawful orders of the police, the controlling civil authority, to lift a phrase from our once supreme reigning heavyweight meteorological savant, private jet traveler, and seer, Al Gore, as you go about your lawless activities unless the police properly beg you to stop tossing your empty short dogs of booze, cobble rocks, short pieces of pipe, and bags of urine at them, in your proper native tongue. And, of course, the police can be taken to task for failing to adequately describe, in your native tongue, from Lithuanian to Urdu, the objects you’re throwing when they order you to cease your dissociative and criminal behavior.
Things have sure changed a lot thanks to politically correct behavior, the recognition of microaggressions, and the input garnered from the “liberal” media and our burgeoning social elite. I can actually remember when folks were more concerned about stopping the riots, slowing the destruction of private property, and rounding up the criminals than they were about the he, hims, and hers, used while goading them on.
It used to be that large roving packs of varlets tossing rocks, full cans of beer, railroad spikes, coiled balls of barbed wire, bullets,s and the like at you and your fellow citizens, were fair game for jail, our teetering legal system, and a good talking to in English from a judge possessing an ever so slight understanding our marvelous and unique Constitution.
But now you have to address everybody in their native tongue, using the proper pronouns, while you’re enduring this rain of missiles, waiting for their response, giving them a few minutes for the lawful orders to cease and desist to sink in, while enduring the continued rain of missiles, waiting a few more moments to see if they understood, while the rocks, bottles and associated jetsam hit you in the helmet and dirty your clean blue military pressed uniform, and then repeat the process until the boisterous gangrels, ne’er-do’wells, vagabonds, moochers, and lollygaggers disperse, should they care to. And if they do end up arrested and tossed in the can, their bail will be met by our nation’s President, Veep, and their staffs using Democrat donations garnered from ActBlue because they’ve been wronged sometime in their past, somewhere on this spinning planet and we, working Americans, owe them a great deal for their troubles.
Ah, America today, where Antifa, the BLM crowd, illegal aliens, assorted crooks, and rampaging agents of terror make outrageous public demands of the police, which are immediately taken up by the far-left liberal media and trumpeted worldwide by the UN as evidence of rogue US cops on another uncalled for rampage.
Sometimes I actually do long for the old days. Unemployment may have been higher, the Dow was lower, the NASDAQ free of Bernie Madoff, Adam-12 and Mannix were popular, fewer folks owned their own homes, automobiles, and telephones, we worked longer hours for less pay while American cars were riddled with tactile and audible defects, where rattling car doors often contained empty beer cans which in turn were partly filled with pebbles, a la the long studied Lordstown GMC UAW Local 1112 strike. But the chances of being killed by a gunman or murdered in a riot were far less than in 2020 and today.
But in those days of yore, there were a few responsibilities cops demanded of the criminal class – understanding and speaking English were two of them, combined with that modicum of civility.
But times have changed, thanks in part to President Obama, the decline of decorum, and the “defund the police” Democrats.
It’s tough out there for a cop.
