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Zoooooooom, smell the burning belts, brakes, and fluids

Monday, July 12th, 2010

What’s the fastest you’ve driven? Well, the Crown Victoria Police Interceptor has a factory electronic governor of 130 MPH. I’ve been in the passenger seat to see this quite a few times, and as a newly-unleashed officer have done it a couple of times already. There are precious few places and circumstances where this kind of speed is justifiable and relatively sane. Usually it’s an interstate at zero dark thirty on a weeknight with five miles between you and another officer who is in danger of getting his ass kicked. The landscape is entirely different once you pass 110 or so, and I’d never do it just for fun unless I was on a closed course. Then again, I’m boring.

In my personal vehicles, I doubt I have ever topped 90 MPH while passing.

This is How Pepper Spray Really Works

Monday, May 31st, 2010

Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

I’m still a big fan of chemical weapons. Yes, everybody in the vicinity gets a little of it, but the intended target gets it far, far worse, and presumably doesn’t know it’s coming. Two important points:

- You want “stream” chemical weapons, not “spray” or “fog”. The stream is just what it sounds like, putting out a super-soaker-style splattering stream of Suck. Spray or fog tends to produce more of the aforementioned collateral damage.
- The surprise of the sensation is key to its effect. Thus, it is essential that you never, ever telegraph your intention to spray someone, or use the threat of spray as a deterrent. Anyone who’s been sprayed before will instinctively close their eyes and hold their breath if they know it’s coming, diminishing the Suck and enabling them to continue doing whatever it is that you were spraying them for.

Whitebread on Patrol, now with more “on Patrol”

Friday, August 14th, 2009

Received in the mail today:

Dear Whitebread:

This letter is to advise you that you are being offered an at-will employment position as a Police Officer, with an hourly rate of $[Not Much], with the City of [The City, My The City], contingent upon satisfactory completion of our pre-employment physical examination, drug screen, and psychological examination.

Adventures in Church Secretarydom

Thursday, January 29th, 2009

(Whitebread is doing church secretary stuff when he is summoned to the front window of the office by a coworker. Two trucks have pulled into the overflow parking of the church, and young men are scurrying back and forth out of sight in the woods. Curious but not really expecting misbehavior, Whitebread saunters out to see what they’re up to. When the young men see Whitebread exit the church, they all pile into one of the trucks, so that there are four of them in the bed of the vehicle, with two to four of them in the extended cab. Whitebread waves and hails them.)

Whitebread: Hey, fellas! Y’all staying warm today?

Young man in bed: We’re tryin’, man!

Whitebread: So whatchy’all doin’ out here in the cold?

Driver: We’re getting some snow in some buckets, and we’re gonna go fuck someone up.

(Whitebread is taken aback by the change in tone, and is momentarily caught speechless. The moment passes.)

Whitebread: Well uh, you guys don’t need to be doing that from here. This is private property and you’ll need to be moving on.

Driver: Well, that’s not very church-like.

Whitebread (doing his best Clint Smith thumbs-up): Well, I’m not a real church-like kinda guy.

Driver: So?

Whitebread: So, y’all get lost, or I call the police.

(At this point, Whitebread realizes that he’s in a rather exposed place. He backpedals casually, knowing that after about three strides he will have put a tree between himself and the grill of the occupied truck.)

Driver: Sure, we’ll leave… right after we kick your ass!

Two thoughts enter Whitebread’s mind: “Get some.” and “Disparity of force.” He has the presence of mind not to vocalize either of those thoughts, but unzips his jacket, to make access to his pistol easier if anyone decides to get uppity.

While Whitebread is thinking these thoughts, the truck is put in gear, turns, and exits the parking lot. Whitebread counts one middle finger from the driver’s window, and three from the bed of the truck. He wants to shout, “Hey, guys, you missed a step in your plan!” but knows better.

As he watches them leave, the realization sets in… they left their other truck! Whitebread gets on the horn with the local Po-Po, who arrive after about eight minutes (when seconds count…). Officer Friendly is briefed on the situation and threatening statements that were made, and offers to hang out for a while and have an earnest conversation with them when they come back for their vehicle.

Whitebread makes it a point to look out the front window every five minutes or so. After nearly an hour, he finds that both the cop car and the truck are gone.

It’s unlikely that he happened to leave and then they happened to come back. Either they came back and he confronted them, or they had to wait in hiding for him to leave, and then come back for their truck and scamper off. Either outcome is awesome. Idiots get inconvenienced, and Whitebread doesn’t have to shoot any of them. Life is good.)