Police Stories continued: Professor Peabody and the way Back Machine

Way back, way back, way back, so far I can't remember the year, maybe 1983. I had a fun filled run in with the Peewaukee WI police and Waukeshau county sheriffs dept. I was a day like any other day. Not much to do except go fishing, or at least try to. Bill Hokanen and myself headed out to Peewaukee lake for the sake of killing time, whiskey, and fish. We pulled up on a side street in a residential neighborhood. You wouldn't know it tho because the houses were so far back you couldn't see them. We parked, opened up the Yukon Jack, turn up the stereo and prepared for an afternoon of seeing life from an anglers perspective. Most likely from an angled perspective.

With one bottled killed we packed the other, grabbed our gear and started to head down to the lake. We were 3/4 ths across the street when Andy and Barney, Peewaukees finest pulled up.
"We had some complaints about you guys being a little loud" they said.
"Well as you can see we're on our way down to the lake so we wont be bothering anybody" I replied.
"Alright, good luck"
Case closed...so I thought.

Now Bill, despite being a good chess player, was both Finnish AND slightly off (and a wee bit drunk). Some how he gets into a "conversation" with Andy about how he's Jesse James, a wanted man. So to appease him Andy says he'll run his name. Man, I can't help but laugh. Warrants! He had a warrant for failure to appear after having been busted for trying to lift a frozen pizza.

(Side story. This is the same guy who, this is true, bear with me. One nite he, myself and John Letellier had been doing lines and smoking pot. We went to PDQ, a 7-11 type store to get something to eat, drink, smoke, or whatever. So we get up to the register to pay and all of a sudden Bill turns to us and says, now mind you, the guy behind the counter was in his 40's if not older, "Hey, who has the P,I,P,E?" spelling it out as if the old guy wouldn't catch on. We hit the floor.)

So Barney calls in the county sheriff to pick up Bill. Shortly after two cruisers pull up. At this point I'm starting to feel what ever it was I was feeling. Feeling rambunctious, boisterous, and ten feet tall, I decided to be legal counsel for Bill. I was warned to bite my tongue, sober up, and go home. Convinced it was a set up I ranted about how they were going to wait around the corner and nail me for DUI. They restated their case and drove off. I started yelling and gesticulating, kicking the gravel in my best Billy Martin impersonation. They came back.
"Paul, this is the last time. Sit here and sober up. If we have to come back you're going in.?"
They pulled away, reached the end of the block, and then the back up lights came on. "Forever hold your peace" just wasn't , isn't, a part of my vocabulary.

Cuffs are on and I'm in the back seat. Head all the way back looking skyward out of the rear window. Having been quiet for all of a minute, concern made its way from the front seat.
"Are you okay?"
"What the F--- do you care" I yelled at the top of my lungs inside of this enclosed car.

They took me to the Waukeshau County jail, a place I had delivered milk to many times before. I had to give them my shoes so that I wouldn't hang myself with my laces. Over what? a D&D! So they gave me these slipper/sandals, both left feet. I would only wear one while walking around with the other in my hand. My reasoning being that I didn't want my feet to become deformed. (when I was a child it took me forever to get my shoes on the right feet. my mom would tell me I'd be taken to a doctor to have my feet switched to the opposite legs.) Then came the finger printing and intake interview. That is just a series of questions about prior arrest, residency, employment, and health status. Now, the guy doing this was at least 60. At the end of the list of question was "Do you have any physical concerns that we should know about?"
"Don't let me get bent over 'cause I don't want to get aids."
The old man was writing it all down until he realized what I said. He crumpled up the paper and said "Let's get serious!" Buddy, I am!

So then they took me to my cell. On the way down the hallways of the always I was taken past Bills cell. The look on his face was worth a dollar seventy five. "Whats he doing here?". I just grinned and kept walking.

A couple hours later Molly Pootsie bailed me out. The next morning/afternoon I was sitting at the table having ham and rolls with my family. I made up a story about how Bills brother came by on a boat, we went out and landed a couple Muskies. I recall looking at my hands wondering how they had gotten so dirty. Ah! It hit me and I giggled to myself. Ink!

We didn't kill any fish, but two out of three ain't bad. Right Meatloaf?

Back to the Police Stories series

When last we left I had been released from the Devonshire division jail ( see post title good cops bad cops). Despite the detainment I made it to work with minutes to spare. So life went on as usual, that is until one day when the very job I hustled to get to on time was lost due to an involuntary termination... at least from my perspective. This was the beginning of a bizarre love hate relationship that found me quitting once and being fired three times in the two years I was with the company.

Any hoo, I was scheduled to have a meeting with the president of the company one afternoon to see about getting back on the job. My friend Louie loaned me his car, and my other friend Scott, who also had time to kill that morning, and I were sitting in his car smoking some pot. I saw some cops in the rear view mirror going down a side street. It was time to go. Sure enough they turned back. They were at least a block away but I knew what was on their minds. I turned, they turned. I turned again and so did they. It was cat and mouse until I finally lost them. I made it to Roscoe blvd and was going to turn right. While checking to look for a clearing in the traffic I looked across the street only to spot the boys on the other side planning on a left turn. The mouse was caught.

If you recall, at the end of my last police story I was admonished by the fuzz to take care of my warrant. Surprise! I hadn't. I also didn't have a license. Scott was taken in for skipping bail on a weed selling charge. So I was taken to the west valley division with only an hour or so to go before my meeting with the prez. I called a friend at work and told him the situation. All I needed was $200.00 and I would pay him when we spotted the nearest atm. He should up pretty quickly and sprung me. As he was driving me back to where Louie's car had been left I said, "Thanks man."
"Don't thank me" he replied.
I knew right away "Nooooo".
"Yep, she bailed you out."

Now heres the kicker to this story. As mentioned earlier we had been smoking and Scott had been drinking some beer. When I got back to the car, on the floor mat right under the steering wheel was some pot, a pipe, and a beer. No charges for any of that, or driving without a license.

So yes, there are some, maybe even mostly, good cops out there.

Speaking of Sharon Tate

Earlier this morning someone reminded me of a bit of trivia that I had forgotten about. Not sure if I mentioned where I am now living. If I haven't I am in Richland Washington, a two minute walk away from the Columbia river. One of Richlands famous residents was none other than the beautiful Sharon Tate. She moved here 1954 while in seventh grade when her father was transfered from Texas. Good move. When she was a sophomore at Columbia he she was voted home coming princess. Then, note the date, on August 9th 1959, she was named Miss Richland. How is that for freaky. Exactly ten years to the date before she was killed. Its a sad thing that she had to die so young...and pregnant. By the way, she was expecting a boy and had chosen the name Paul for him.

Charlie on Acid

For a while I have been planning on having some Charlie Manson t-shirts made and selling them on line. I had about six of them, consciously avoiding the use of the most famous cover of Life magazine photo. A few days ago I came across the pic in a 1x1 inch format and thought it would be great to use that picture repeating as tabs on a sheet of acid. I sent an email to Pink Lloyd, who you may remember from previous post, and below is the mind blowing result that he sent me. Tho it will be a few months until I can get this done (capital) all I need , well one of the things I need to do is figure out what color t-shirt the below graphic would look best on. Your input would be greatly appreciated. I have been thinking black, grey,white, or an electric blue. I am open to other suggestions also. Oddly enough on this post it is just the right size for a sheet of blotter. Maybe red would be the best color shirt.

Corey Feldman

Just a freak little thing. I came across this photo of Corey Feldman, and it may just be a predisposition, but I swear he looks just like Charlie Manson. You be the judge. Am I wrong? I'm not sure if this was done for a new movie role, heck, even Lindsay Lohan was going to play Nancy Pitman in a movie about the Manson girls. She eventually bowed out (LOSER) due to "scheduling conflicts". None the less I would let her join my family any time. Call me Lindy Lou.
I don't mean people should call me Lindy Lou, SHE should call me. (976-STA-LKER) In many ways I'm still Free. Yes, despite myself and the attempts of others to dispose of it, I still have a sense of humor.

50 Years

To some it may sound as tho it was a sentence. To a couple others it was a commitment.

This Sunday, the 7th, my parents are having a 50th anniversary party. Needless to say I wont be there. It was just bad timing, and an indecision as to whether or not there would be a party. Shortly after I moved here the word was no. Then after I got a job the answer was yes . Life goes on.

So I thought about making my presence felt even tho I wasn't there. A life size cardboard cut out of myself. My camera is lacking about 2,000,000,000 mega pixels. So how about those edible bouquets? The arrangements looked like the sticky flowers on the bottom of a bathtub. I asked Amy what I should do. She suggested a trip to Disneyland. I told her that I think my parents hit there on their honeymoon. And just like a gold Lamborghini it was out of my reach. So bemoaning another of my many plights in life I kicked pebbles around...thinking.

Out of the blue it hit me, or was told to me. I have only been at my new lousy job for five weeks now, but in that time I twice heard similar comments , the last of which made me decide what I could give my fearsome twosome for this rare occasion.

I believe all parents would like a return on their investment. Or maybe I should say I would like to give my parents a return on their investment. Fiscally it is an impossibility for me, so I can only do it intangibly. I hope it will suffice. So in these words, more or less, I was told "you're a pleasure to work with. You have a good work ethic, and always say please and thank you". My retort was "thank my parents".

An apple may roll down the hill, but that doesn't mean it didn't fall far from the tree.

My parents and I are three different people, and for years it was awkward to say "I love you", but I do. I don't say that to many people, maybe ten in my 43 years. With the exception of those two and a few others I've been let down. In this day 50 years is beyond what most marriage's and I were ever expected to survive. Today the word "congratulations" is just an amalgam of letters said to every one who quits, starts, survives, ends...So I won't throw that out at my Mom and Dad. I guess I'll just say I love you.

In my words "it's a freakin' mind blower,