Good cops Bad cops

Angie and Porky were the good cops. Here is a story of bad cops.

It was a day like any other day. 9:30 a.m. and I'm walking down Nordoff in Northridge CA on my way to work. I was headed west and so was the cop car that cruised past me. It turned right by Dearborn park. I saw the front of the car reappear from behind a wall. They turned left headed back east but were again in the west bound lane. The car skidded to a stop along side the curb about 10 to 15 feet in front of me. The driver hopped out with his revolver drawn and the passenger aimed a shotgun across the roof of the car. Obviously something pretty heavy was going down and I wanted no part of it. I turned to walk in the other direction only to hear "freeze", and see no one else behind me. It is funny how powerful a word freeze becomes when you have guns drawn on you.

Well, pork isn't the only white meat. It seems as tho a KFC was held up. Who would plan to rob a chicken shack in the a.m. and I'm assuming before they opened. Any hoo, hoopdie doo, I was led down to the corner and told to stand at a certain angle as another cruiser came by. There were two people in the back seat, and tho I wasn't supposed to see them I got a very good look. A white girl with brown hair, and a light skinned black guy. They both shook their heads no. Free at last, free at last, thank God almiiii....what? Not only did they catch me with a pipe, was that a crime, but this one pig kept going on about the devils weed. Picture this scene in black and white and you have "reefer madness". Any square headed screw like that wasn't going to get away without my opinion. It seems as tho that endeared myself to him because he didn't want to go away without me. While the drive by id was going on my name was ran. Oup, we have a warrant out for your arrest.

Sit down while I start a new paragraph.

A few months earlier I was walking back to my tree after work. I was hitching up that very same street, Nordoff. Walking along the curb, spinning around to show my pretty mug to my perspective chauffeurs. Give 'em a good look at my honest face. As things happen I took a few steps into the street...at the wrong time. This time its old cop young cop. Bwoop went the siren. What the... The two Billie's stepped out. The old donut holer started yelling at me "drop whats in your hand".
"Its a can of soda."
"Drop it."
"It'll explode."
"Drop it."
(Freakin pig)
I flipped it back so it would land on the grass. The vet cop went on about how it is illegal to hitch in the roadway. I tried to explain that I was walking along the curb and just had stepped into the road briefly. "Well the law states......blah blah blah." He looked at his rookie partner and said "It's up to you." Well who do you want to impress more some homeless loser or the guy you will spend the next year with? ( It's funny how I got cited for stepping onto a street that my tax dollars were paying for, yet everyday hundreds of illegal parasites drive up and down that road in unlicensed, uninsured vehicles).

Back to the initial confrontation. So I was cuffed and put in the back of the car. I was driven to the Devonshire division, a five minute drive. These guys freaked the piss out of me. Left turn, right turn, right again, then two lefts. This was two years before King, but I thought for sure I was in for a beating. Alas, I was oddly relieved to be at the station. I was taken in and sat down on a bench. Cuffs were put on my ankles, and on my wrist behind my back. But wait, theres more. Then they took a chain and ran it between the ankle and wrist cuffs. I had no idea what the big deal was, that is until a door opened up and from behind it entered a co and a lady followed by about 20 6 or 7 year olds. It all clicked. She told her students not to stare and I menacingly grinned and said " yeah thats right, I'm Charlie Manson (we go way back)".

This all happened in an hours time. I was finally told that the computer system (1988) had gone down and there was no way to know how long it would take, one hour or all day, so they couldn't hold me. I was released with the admonition "take care of this as soon as you can". I hustled and made it to work on time. Man, talk about a good work ethic...or maybe blind ambition.

Did I act responsibly and take clear my illegal status (with a bogus green card) ? Stay tuned and find out.

canned heat baby, canned heat.

Angie Dickinson and Porky Pig, Parts One and Three

It was a nite like any other nite in Reseda CA. The usual suspects were hanging out on the sidewalk and accomplishing a whole lot of nothing. Smoking some pot and making fun of each other. Talking about better days that were sure to come. Sometimes I still think they will. I was time to smoke a little more so a few of us hopped into a car. The other three had beers, I was just in it for the weed. Just as we got done smoking the cops pull up. I can't say that it worried me. At most it would just be a ticket.
We were all asked to get out of the car and sit on the curb. I was feeling good and mellow and was more than happy to comply. It seems as tho they didn't pick up on the aroma of the weed and just wrote tickets to the others for open containers. Unfortunately on of the other guys wasn't really happy about. He kept calling the Police Women, sir. The more she corrected him the more defiantly he called her sir. Never did find out what crawled up his butt, but after a few belligerent minutes he was put in cuffs and given a seat in the back of one of the cruisers. After he calmed down they released him and handed him his citation, Angie Dickinson riding off into the sunset.

It was gravity that pulled us apart, but destiny that brought us back together about a week later. Dale and I were kicking back on a lazy afternoon, sitting in my '63Corvair Greenbriar (not the one in the pic. Mine was a faded beach yellow with some bitchin rims.) smoking some Indica. Alas, here comes the fuzz! Two cruisers pulled up and we stepped out on the sidewalk to talk with them. There stood Angie Dickinson in all her police woman glory. For some reason she gave me the stink eye. Then she said "Oh, you were the tough guy giving us a hassle last week". Well I wasn't about to correct her so I let it slide. Fortunately another cop from the previous shake down was there and spoke up. "No, it wasn't him." So then the pat down. Porky (I call him this because he actually resembled Porky Pig) searched Dale, Angie searched me. The only reason I recall this is that Dale's pat down took about ten seconds. Mine seemed like two minutes. I remember dale and I smirking at each other while Angie was on her knees checking below my waist. We made small talk and one of the officers looked in my front seat. "Whats this?" he said as he pulled out my Chilum (a strait pipe often used in India). "Just a little green bud" I replied.
"I know that, but what are you smoking out of? How do you use it?" I took it from his hand, cupped my hands together with the stem tucked between my knuckles. I showed him how it was used and handed it back to him. He put it right back where he found it. At that time Porky chimed in. "You guys would have loved being with us a little while ago. We busted this guy with four pounds fresh off the vine. I could see you two pulling out that Cheech and Chong album and rolling one big joint." It was really quite an experience.

At that point in time the local police were mainly concerned with crack heads and burglars. I guess one in the same. You know with the Rodney King incident and other beatings, cops, L.A. cops in particular, get a real bad rap. They have to put up with a lot of anal brains, and most of the people beaten have it coming. So don't be a fool and they'll be cool...most of the time. Even Charlie Manson treated the police politely. When being arrested for the last time in Oct of '69 he stepped out and said "Hi, I'm Charlie Manson".

Lost in my parents kitchen

Do you remember where you were 21 years ago today? I do, but thats another story. My point is sometimes a date is meaningless, probably 300 plus out of the year. No anniversaries of any sort. At least none that stick out in your mind. So how do I know that in Oct of '89 I got lost in my parents kitchen? Easy, the S.F. earthquake at the start of the Giants/A's world series game. I was just east of Sac when it hit. A few days later I wound up in Milwaukee.

So one day I get in contact with my friend Dave Vick. I went to his place, hung out, smoked pot, and listened to the Dead. Before leaving he gave me five hits of acid. I took two, then two more, and thought "why hang onto one". Five hits in an hours time. So I hopped into my brothers mean green machine, and old Suburban, and headed to the house that I grew up in. The yellow submarine. My parents were out of town at the time, but my brother, oldest sister, and her now husband were there. Watching the baseball game that nite was like watching a video game. The nite ended and my sister and bro-in-law left. My brother crashed. As for myself...well. Alright, a few hours later I thought I should go crash. Now I just needed to navigate my way from one end of the house to the other. Easy. The only problem was getting from the family room to the dining room.

So here I am at the doorway of the family room and the dining part of the kitchen. I had to look off at a 45% angle to see the doorway of the cooking area of the kitchen and the dining room. Hand on the lite switch I have a direct route mapped out in my head. One strait line. Two or three steps into the kitchen I distracted myself. The room is beyond black. My pupils are wide open but no lite is coming in. I start feeling my way around, arms out stretched. Finally the curtians at the sliding door. I pull them back only to see a lightning storm. It wasn't really there...but it was. From there I could feel my way along the walls and cupboards. Dining room, lite switch. Hallway, turn on the lites, turn off the dining room lite. Ah, bedroom dead ahead. Lites on, then off in the hall.

As anyone who has tripped knows, you can't sleep on acid. Half an hour later I hear an alarm go off. 4:30 am, my brother the truck driver is getting up for work. Here is the really odd thing, the song that was playing when he turned on his stereo was ...My mind just went blank. It was Rod Stewart. A song Robbie Robertson also did. Help me out hear folks. ..AH... Phil Lesh did this song also...Broken Arrow

I still don't sleep much, even finished my laundry at 4 this am.

Malibu PCH

Yeah I had just hit So Cal, had a ruff hewn X on my forehead while hitchin down PCH. It seemed as tho all of the street lites David A Vick and I walked past shorted out.Walking down PCH. Despite that we covered a lot of miles, and smoked a lot of Hash. Red, black, and blonde. I hope he fared well. The last time I saw him was in Oct of 89. This is a lead in to the story of when I got lost in my parents kitchen.

He was, is a good friend. I am sorry that I got lost.
Anyone that knows of David A Vick from Milwaukee WI
say hey

Pismo Beach, high tide, black hash, sand stone, hypothermia

Bitchin

truth IS stranger than fiction The final chapter

If you look back at the original Truth IS stranger than fiction post from back in April you will read about the girl I knew that had a strawberry seed stuck in a socket from an extracted wisdom tooth. It was sealed over and started sprouting. Well directly from that girl, Kirsten Ashton of Pocatello ID is the revamped version of Botticelli's Birth of Venus. I hope you had a successful harvest.

Soundtracks to life

We have all had those moments in life when the music in the background compliments, and even sometimes echoes what is happening. Unfortunately we forget so many of those times. For better or worse I have to occasions etched in my mind. Oddly enough they both involve cops and black musicians.

Episode One: February 1990, Sherman Oaks CA. The Band, Culture, the song, We Der Still. The tape was playing in my car when undercover cops came up as I was relaxing with some reggae and a joint. Well, whats a joint gonna hurt. They searched my car and decided to arrest me on a weapons charge, which technically was legit but was practically unfounded. Back to the soundtrack. So as I'm getting busted for pot the above mentioned song was playing. One of the lines rings out "Rastas chalice been taken away and his ganja has been burned but we der still". After that day, or few days, I had to thoughts. #1 Get a tattoo saying Question Authority around my anus. #2 Why would they want to look up my butt? How many people go thru day to day life with contraband shoved where angels fear to tread.

Episode Two: 1994, Medford OR. The Artist Mavrin Gaye. The song, Trouble man Ironically my landlord called the cops on my neighbor who was usually loud and a prick. Well this nite I decided to "enlighten" my neighbor. Hearing the clamor the landlord phoned the boys and they showed up only to find me "teaching" this guy about neighbor etiquette. I wasn't too concerned, but it did strike me as funny that Trouble Man by Marvin Gaye was playing while the cops were getting ready to haul me off. Its a good thing Pete the landlord stuck his head in to see "whats goin' on" and say that I was the good guy. If only I had gotten that in writing.

I guess this might be an appropriate segue to my police stories series.

A pictoral of my new town

To start with I live in Richland WA, just a couple blocks from the Columbia River. Google 1878 Fowler Street and you'll see how close. No skyline here, just some bridges that I find fascinating. Also some of the local wildlife (actual animals). Some may look like Canadian Geese, but they are actually a subspecies called Columbia Geese. They find the climate here to be so nice that they never migrate.

Just want to run this by you

Do you remember when you were a kid and went to buy a new pair of sneakers? You couldn't wait to get home and lace them up. Once on you went outside, and sure enough, you were running faster than you ever had.

That's all for now. Hopefully my apartment will be ready by the end of next week and I'll be able to update the beer of the week, video bar, and fill you in on my new town, along with some more mad capped misadventures from my past, including police stories, real life sound tracks, and getting lost in my parents kitchen. Sometimes are wonder what the stories that I can't remember were like.