Tuesday, February 3, 2009

So Be It, Friend No More

I was going to do a piece about trying to find a happy medium between eugenics and dysgenics, but I have a new enemy. Fate.

I have been trying to get my shit all the more together so that I could stop leeching off my parents, and start paying my own fucking bills, and start dealing with my own problems. You know, actually turn myself into that "positive force to society." But it seems the more shit I can finally figure out and pay, the more gets loaded on my plate.

I was headed back to my delightfully overpriced apartment with my little brother and his girl/friend, when suddenly I see those begrudgingly patriotic red, white and blue lights. I had just gotten finished picking up my truck from the repair shop, which was no fucking picnic, a bunch of money for the next few months while I pay off my rebuilt transfer case. I had also just gotten over a bad bout of 24-hour flu. I get pulled over, for apparently going 54 in a 40. I had kept a solid eye on my speedometer the whole time i had been accelerating. I never saw the needle go past 40. I thought it was nonsense. Plus, since I was just finishing picking up my truck, of course I forget my fucking wallet which has both my license and insurance information.

I had a knife sitting in my glovebox, which I had opened to try and find my spare insurance information. Now I know that constitutes a search of my vehicle. So here I am freezing my ass off on the curb while some guy gropes me in my "I'm feeling sick" clothes (which look like "Let's get high" clothes), and then he searches my vehicle. I have learned tonight that not only is a switchblade illegal, but also that there was one in my truck (I haven't cleaned out the thing in 6 months). So, I will say happily that I dodged a bullet and wasn't arrested and put on a felony because of an illegal weapon that I wasn't aware of, but fuck man. Why is the shit hitting the fan now?

I got three tickets tonight, and I hereby officially no longer trust cops. Sure I was let off very easy, but I'm still fuming over the fact that I was pulled over in the first place. I'm annoyed that I couldn't get a chance to say my policy number or my license number. I never got a chance to explain my little circumstance. Shit, I can't even remember how many times he asked me if I do drugs. Motherfucker. I am offically going to regard every cop as someone looking to fuck me over. I'm keeping an eagle eye on my fucking speedometer, so that the next time I get pulled over, I will know exactly how fast I was going. I'm not scared straight you see, I'm taking every chance I can to prove you fucks incorrect. Fuck you, Police. 

-The0

1 comment:

  1. I have a friend who's a lawyer. His general advice is that, when interacting with cops, remember that you're not obliged to tell them anything. And you certainly aren't obliged to let them search your vehicle. But those things combined do not mean you should be an idiot.

    Him seeing the switchblade in the glovebox? The cop's first sight of that wasn't actually a "search." At that point, there was just an object in plain view. Thus, that, with some of the other circumstantial factors, probably gave the cop probable cause to search. If the cop had arrested you, he could have made a search incident to the arrest, which, if I recall correctly, is permissible without a court warrant if the search takes place at the incidence of the arrest.

    Ok. So I'm my own friend. :-P

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