|Oct 05, 2005 13:05 ET||Back | Print Article|
| Guest Name:||W||Email:|| |
| City/Town:|| ||Province:|| |
| Country:|| |
|Since what I saw on this "guestbook" was all about complaining to police I am deciding to post this. People who complain over the internet obviousally don't have the courage to do it over the phone, or by going to the Police Station. So read this......... and think.......|
Well, Mr. Citizen, it seems you've figured me out. I fit neatly into the
category where you've placed me. I'm stereotyped, standardized,
characterized, classified, grouped, and always typical. Unfortunately, the
reverse is true. I can never figure you out.
From birth, you teach your children that I'm the bogeyman, that you're
shocked when they identify/associate with my traditional enemy ... the
criminal! You accuse me of coddling criminals..until I catch your kids doing
You may take an hour for lunch and several coffee breaks each day, but point
me out as a loafer for having one cup. You pride yourself on your manners,
but think nothing of disrupting my meals with your troubles.
You raise Cain with the guy who cuts you off in traffic, but let me catch
you doing the same thing and I'm picking on you. You know all the traffic
laws...but you've never gotten a single ticket you deserve. You shout "FOUL"
if you observe me driving fast to a call, but raise the roof if I take more
than ten seconds to respond to your complaint.
You call it part of my job if someone strikes me, but call it police
brutality if I strike back. You wouldn't think of telling your dentist how
to pull a tooth or your doctor how to take out an appendix, yet you are
always willing to give me pointers on the law. You talk to me in a manner
that would get you a bloody nose from anyone else, but expect me to take it
without batting an eye.
You yell that something's got to be done to fight crime, but you can't be
bothered to get involved. You have no use for me at all, but of course it's
OK if I change a flat for your wife, deliver your child in the back of the
patrol car, or perhaps save your son's life with mouth to mouth breathing,
or work many hours overtime looking for your lost daughter.
So Mr. Citizen, you can stand there on your soapbox and rant and rave about
the way I do my work, calling me every name in the book, but never stop to
think that your property, family, or maybe even your life depends on me or
one of my buddies. Yes, Mr. Citizen, it's me the cop!
The Author of this Poem was an American State Trooper who was killed in the line of duty not long after he wrote this poem. So please, next time you see a cop, don't tense up and freeze, they are human beings too.