By John Burtis
Friday, May 4, 2007
The LAPD, my brothers in blue, are finally and thankfully under the gun for failing to address the malicious devil may care bottle-throwing swarm of vagrants, lamsters, illegal immigrants, class cutting high school students, media cameramen, associated and resolute humbugs, "journalists", human rights "advocates", and rioters they encountered on May 1st in every foreign tongue expected to be used by the miscreants and malcontents involved.
The LAPD, in hindsight, only used English, the language of the oppressor class, to advise the troubling no-accounts that it was high time to shuffle off and disperse or face further beseeching for order and the possible employment of the necessary force to overcome their resistance to the lawful orders to stop their damaging nonsense.
The cops' failure to employ an adequate number of interpreters and public address systems during the height of the confrontation is being called a direct diminution of the victims' rights, another baseless slur on the immaculate reputations of those involved, and one more example of the activities of a rogue police department gone wild.
Poor old Bill Bratton was even dragged in front of the cameras in full hunting kit to try to explain to a now rabid press why his officers failed in this context and what he was planning to do to insure that future rioters are accorded every civility by the often overeager police charged with their coddling.
And I'm also surprised that Joe Francis, the Girls Gone Wild guy, wasn't called in for a comment, either. But he'd just be a warm up for the "Rev." Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, who are probably making their way to LA right now – Jesse for the television studios and Al for Jesse's old girlfriend, but the latter is another story of woe and betrayal outside, so far, the jurisdiction of the lamentable LAPD.
It's sure tough out there for a cop.
Imagine the cheek involved in this latest caper found in our undocumented worker's paradise. You sneak into this country. You work courtesy of the theft of some poor boob's identity. You are immediately covered by the local state, county, or municipality for every conceivable medical need for free, including those of your 248 close family members, far above that routinely offered to the peasants who are real American citizens and paying for it all. And in your spare time from meaningful illegal employment, from the schools you pay nothing to support, and from the routine day to day business regimen of your preferred gang, you decide to mosey on over to MacArthur Park and duke it out with the police because you want more freebies, more bennies and a lot more basic human respect. And you do it because it's May Day, the UN approved, Castro practicing, Reid and Pelosi blessed international holiday dedicated to goading the local police with cat calls, man portable missiles, and yes, even cuss words.
But nowhere in your responsibilities are you expected to obey the lawful orders of the police, the controlling civil authority, to lift a phrase from our reigning meteorological savant and seer, Al Gore, as you go about your lawless activities unless they properly beg you to stop tossing your empty short dogs, cobble rocks, short pieces of pipe, and bags of urine at them in your native tongue. And, of course, the police can be taken to task for failing to adequately describe, in your language, the objects you're throwing when they order you to cease your dissociative behavior.
Things have sure changed a lot thanks to politically correct behavior, speech, and the input garnered from the "liberal" media and social elites, and I can actually remember when folks were more concerned about stopping the riots and rounding up the criminals than they were about their proper address.
It used to be that large roving packs of varlets tossing rocks, full cans of beer, feces, railroad spikes, coiled balls of barbed wire, and the like at you and your fellow citizens, were fair game for jail, our groaning legal system, and a good talking to in English.
But now you have to address everybody in their native tongues while you're enduring this rain of missiles, wait for their response, give them a few minutes for the orders to cease and desist to sink in, while enduring the continued rain of missiles, wait a few more moments to see if they understand, while the rocks, bottles and associated jetsam hit you in the helmet and dirty your clean blue military pressed uniform, and then repeat the process until the boisterous gangrels, ne'er-do'wells, vagabonds, moochers, and lollygaggers disperse.
Ah, America today, where the troubled, the illegal aliens, and the crooks make outrageous public demands of the police, which are immediately taken up by the liberal media and trumpeted worldwide as evidence of cops on a rampage.
Sometimes I actually do long for the old days. Unemployment may have been higher, the Dow lower, fewer poor owned their own homes, and American cars were riddled with tactile and audible defects, but there were some few responsibilities demanded of the criminal class – like understanding English.
But times have changed.
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