"Red lights flashing, time to retire"

In the few times my path has crossed with a lawman over the years, I've never had what you would call a traumatic experience. A few times it was a simple question of who was quicker on his feet, and in high school when such an occasion would arise, I was like a fucking gazelle. See, when you grow up in a small Christian town where the lonely group of sinners is resigned to lashing out against authority with loud music and heavy drinking, running from the police is pretty much a sport. I wouldn't say I'm particularly proud of my antics, but then again my only regret is that I didn't wave both middle fingers.

Of course, the Saturday night derby from authority wasn't always victorious. A few times I found myself cornered, alone, scared, and one time in particular I was left to fend for myself on the sidewalk at 3 a.m. in the middle of nowhere. The cop seemed to enjoy leaving me there -- I think it was secretly payback for all the other times the long arm of the law couldn't beat my sprinting record, what with the hand cannon and nightstick to lug around.

I have realized one thing, however: Cops are really easy to figure out. Many carry the badge because they are compensating for humiliating personal defects, such as the inability to gain respect from their peers without carrying an automatic weapon. The rest just have a fetish for control over situations and people. When they feel that control slipping away, they simply resort to violence, claiming their life was in danger. Hilariously, the burden of proof always seems to be on the person claiming abuse, not the authority figure with a legal mandate to regulate on peons with all God-given necessary force.

Oh yeah, and most cops are also fucking crazy. They have this savage need to reform the world with holier-than-thou beliefs of what is good and lawful. If you don't conform, they will inspire you to change through threats and physical violence. And then they will lie through their teeth -- sometimes to the point of absurdity.

Take the story of Angela Garbarino, a 42-year-old from Louisiana. After being arrested on suspicion of drunken driving (I emphasize suspicion here because, as we all know, we are all innocent until proven guilty), she was taken to the police station for "questioning."

What happened next is a grim reminder of how this society has allowed our police to become the brutal dictators of our justice system, circumventing all established safeguards for a free society. After Garbarino refused to take a Breathalyzer test, which is completely legal as long as you're willing to lose your driver's license, the arresting officer, aptly named Wiley Willis, savagely beat the woman. And just to show his further contempt for the rules, as if he needed to sink any lower, he turned off the camera in the holding cell before he did it. When he switched the camera back on, Garbarino was laying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, with two black eyes and a bruised face. She looked like this:

Then Willis did something amazing. Although he had reached the utter depths of human depravity by assaulting an (allegedly) intoxicated woman, he managed to transcend all known levels of disgusting behavior and betray even the idea of truth. He claimed that she "fell." Fucking fell!

After such a heroic demonstration of his abilities to beat a drunk person to a bloody pulp, this degenerate didn't even have the guts to admit his blatantly obvious actions. And to boot, he apparently thinks the entire world consists of monkeys who can't recognize a falling injury from a ferocious attack.

I've been reading many stories lately with a similar plot line. Here in Eugene, a police officer actually received a medal for shooting a 17-year-old kid who was having a mental breakdown and advancing at officers with a knife. The cop pumped a dozen rounds into him, and the powers-that-be called it heroic (he was fulfilling his duty to protect the innocent under intense pressure, apparently). Never mind that it wasn't exactly a split-second decision for the officer; he had time to fire beanbag rounds at the kid before pulling his sidearm. When the beanbag rounds failed, the cop just executed him. No shots in the leg to disable him. Just a death a sentence.

The funny thing is that anytime we question the antics of law enforcement, hysterical conformists inevitably accuse us of being hypocrites. "You complain about cops," they whine, "but if you were in trouble, you'd expect them to come!"

Wow, what a fucking novel revelation. You're goddamn right I'd expect them to come. Know why? Because my taxes pay for the cops to respond when I call. I'm paying for the service of being protected from criminals, and I'll be damned if I stay silent while my hard-earned tax dollars support what often amounts to criminal negligence. It's not like cops are doing me a fucking favor. They have a job. They get paid for it. They're not forced to go out there every day and risk their lives, but they do it anyway. And you'd have to be completely misguided to think that gives them a free pass to abuse their authority.

I understand that most times a cop will treat you with the same respect he receives. But the bad apples are piling up, and if we're not careful the whole batch might go sour. And then it will really get ugly.

Linking out

Friends,

I've added some links to people I know who read my blog, some of whom have graciously added me to their list of links on their respective blogs. I fully understand that the material I convey on Hairy Alpaca can be a bit, er, rabidly anti-conformist and offensive to many people. That's how I like it. But given that, I will understand if you don't want to be associated with my ideas. If this is the case, shoot me an e-mail (hairyalpaca@gmail.com) and let me know, and I'll take you off the list.

If you maintain a blog and want to be added to the list, just let me know. My intention here is to create more of a community for ideas, debate and random bitching.

Also, if you have a blog explaining the finer points of smoking crack, a reader somewhere out there on the Internet needs some information. I'm just saying.

I'm all cracked up

I apologize profusely for the low quality of the image, as I was working at my office with MSPaint and suffering through Vista, but I wanted to share this monumental occasion with my loyal readers. So without further ado, I would like to announce that Hairy Alpaca Inc. has officially been found on the Internet after somebody typed "i want to start smoking crack" into Google.

I have so many people to thank. The Lord, of course, first and foremost, without whom I would never have been able to establish a blog that is accessed by future crack smokers. I also need to throw a shout out to Biggie Smalls. Poorin' out liquor for ya, baby!

Oh, and just for future reference, crack is whack.

* UPDATE: For the record, that string of dotted lines doesn't indicate the daily usage of this blog. It just demonstrates the number of people who have visited the site by typing in those magical words. So, don't worry, you're not the only sucker trying to digest this insanity. The blog has been growing steadily, so thanks for reading!

Small-town idiots watch basketball; chaos ensues

Anger is a funny thing. Sometimes it will drive you to stupidity, like accelerating at extreme speeds because you can't find a fucking parking space on campus, breaking the nearest object after a high-intensity game of Monopoly, or maybe even getting arrested at a basketball game -- after assaulting a sixth-grade girl:

ESTACADA (AP) — Clackamas County sheriff’s deputies arrested a sixth-grade girls basketball coach Sunday, accusing him of taunting a high-school-age referee over his officiating and refusing to leave after being ejected, leading to a swarming onto the court floor by angry fans.

Sheriff’s department spokesman Jim Strovink said Jeffery Scott Larsen, 34, of Molalla, was charged with misdemeanor criminal trespassing of a sporting event.

Deputies went to the Estacada High School gym Saturday after getting calls about a disturbance over officiating of the game between teams from Estacada and Molalla.

Strovink said Deputy Brian Pearson reported that the disturbance began when Larsen, the Molalla coach, received two technical fouls and was ejected.

Pearson said Larsen remained in the building and verbally harassed the game’s 17-year-old referee, an Estacada High School student. The deputy’s report said Larsen threatened the referee physically and directed a profane attack at the boy after the game.

Strovink said via e-mail that Larsen got his first technical in the first half when he contested a foul call on one of his players. The second came in the second half when Larsen slammed his clipboard on the hand of a sixth-grade girl who was the scorekeeper.

The girl suffered a cut but did not require medical attention.

Seriously? A sixth-grade girl? I wonder if any action exists in this universe of human interaction that would make you a bigger douche than hurting a small child because you can't contain your rage over a sport involving 12-year-olds. And I'm not sure what the point is berating a high-school-age official. It stands to reason that the kid probably didn't have a whole lot of experience, and even so, IT'S A FUCKING SIXTH-GRADE BASKETBALL GAME. We're not talking about the NCAA championship here. I'm pretty sure nobody had any money riding on it. Fuck, I take that back. This town is clearly that stupid.

But not to be outdone by the antics of the coach, the fans also grew increasingly distressed, possibly due to sexual frustration or the fact that all they have to do in fucking Estacada is fight each other over sixth-grade basketball:

Strovink said reports were that Larsen refused to leave the arena when ejected and continued to yell at the officiating.
The e-mail said fan hostility grew and at the end of the game fans of both teams went onto the floor taunting the referee and insulting each other.

When a pack of prepubescent girls consists of the most mature, reasonable people in the room, I'd say it's time for a major reassessment of your environs.

A dark time

Everybody wants a box of chocolates,
and a long-stemmed rose.
-- Leonard Cohen

In some dark corner of my mind I constantly wonder when this whole fucking world will collapse.

I see a bundle of rags laying in the gutter with his filthy jacket and cracked teeth and no hope left because he's been abandoned by everything that passes for good and righteous in this wilderness of brutality. He can't even get a buck for a sandwich because a pack of disgusting weasels in slick suits have spent decades convincing the public that he is a lazy man -- a man who clearly deserves to be discarded. They know this because he's in the gutter.

Meanwhile, the shop on the corner is dealing out guns -- instruments of death, when you cut right down to it -- wholesale to anybody with the capacity to sign on the dotted line. Protect your family from the criminals, they say. It's your American freedom, they say. It's your American duty, they say. But who will protect your family from the law-abiding, freedom-loving madman who bought a gun the day before? Maybe he's the kind of guy who walks into a college classroom and spreads chaos around like a wildfire. Maybe he's the kind of guy who sheds blood, and nobody saw it coming. In a free world, nobody ever does.

Freedom. Just the sound of it brings shaking rapture to politicians, so consumed by power and fear and paralyzing evil. We shudder with ecstasy at the very mention of its hallowed syllables. The word itself evokes a sense of relief -- it slides off the tongue so easily. It tastes so sweet, like chocolate.

It's just too bad that the idea of liberty is a mask pulled over our eyes to hide the ugly truth that we're not free at all. We're not free to feel safe in our own classrooms from rabid, law-abiding, gun-toting psychopaths. We're not free from the powers of the government to spy on our every movement, especially those who speak out -- those practicing that old staple, freedom of speech. We're not even free enough to choose which foreign country to rape of its precious, nonrenewable resources. But we don't worry about all that because at least we can buy a gun. And so it goes.

American freedom is great. American freedom is that fantastic, bright beacon of hope that shines so brilliantly that we go blind.

American freedom is killing us.

Mitt Romney: A royal piece of shit

The problem with billionaires running for president is that they have no concept of the real problems facing this country. They can't even fathom how difficult it is to be poor and low-skilled because they literally swim in money and power. So they focus on issues they think are important to Americans and hope to Christ they hit it somewhere in the ballpark of relevancy. In Mitt Romney's case, the issues he decided to champion were fighting pornography and converting people to Christianity. More God and fewer breasts. Thanks for that, asshole.

Romney is a classic American Capitalist. He made his millions by investing in struggling companies, shitting on their workers until the companies turned a profit, and then selling them for excruciating amounts of money. All in all, not a bad strategy, except for the whole shitting on workers part. Of course, this is supposed to be the coveted, saintly role of the American entrepreneur -- cutting benefits to profitability until you've developed a proper sexual appetite, at which point you go home, have sex with your trophy wife in your Massachusetts mansion, and engorge yourself at a dinner table surrounded by 17 kids who will prolong your legacy. Meanwhile, the workers you've either put out of work or denied health insurance are left to decide whether it will be Kraft dinner or pain medication to bring a few moments of sweet relief from the back injury the company refused to fix.

And that's progress. That's our perfectly manufactured system. Don't let Romney fool you -- this is his REAL religion.

To make matters worse, this nation is so blind that when this same billionaire runs for president, an increasingly paranoid public and hopeless media spend an entire year analyzing whether a Mormon can lead the Free World, rather than investigating the fact that he is a slimy, money-grubbing, soulless shell of a human. In fact, when Romney looks into the camera with the hollow eyes of a man who would break his mother's spine if it meant a solid third quarter, the foam-mouthed conservatives are paralyzed by fear, which is just how they like it. The rest of us just see another political hyena, eager to feast on the decaying carcass of our broken political system. I would say our whole society is decaying, but I'm convinced there is some justice in the world because Romney ended up spending millions trying to convince people that he had a shred of humanity left, and nobody bought it. How heavy the tyrants fall.

In his concession speech, Romney cited the prevalence of pornography as a pressing issue of our time. Are you fucking kidding me? Pornography? Hey Mitt, here's a clue: Nobody fucking cares about pornography. We've got more troubling and immediate matters to worry about. I'm sorry you think that two consenting adults having sex in front of a camera is such an abomination and catalyst for the destruction of this nation, but let's face facts. Banning pornography isn't going to save the Dow Jones. It isn't going to feed the hungry, care for our neglected troops after they come back from Iraq with missing arms, or bring peace to the Middle East. It might, however, bring a guy a few minutes of simple, human pleasure before he works 16 hours at Wal-Mart for $3.00 an hour and no benefits because you lobbied for a lower minimum wage and convinced business executives that giving workers 35 hours a week so they don't get insurance is much better than having some fucking compassion. Now the guy has to work four jobs to pay off his nearly-foreclosed house, and he can't have sex with his wife because he's never home. So he watches a bit of pornography to take the edge off. And you want to take that away from him because you are sorry, empty piece of shit who thinks your prophet came to America on a submarine.

Let's face it Mitt -- you're so used to taking things away from people that you have no capability of giving anything back. And that's why you will never be president.

Just a thought

For a nation that often prides itself on quick gratification, our election system sure seems to take its damn time. Think you've wrapped up the nomination because you won the most states? Oh, sorry, too bad, we have some convoluted delegate system that doesn't make any sense.

With Obama and Clinton so close delegate-wise, I'm seeing speculations across the media that they could be duking it out well into spring and maybe beyond. That means at least three more months of debates and talking heads before the Democrats even have a nominee (but most likely not so for the Republicans, who appear -- surprisingly -- to favor the least insane of the three candidates.)

The good news is a McCain presidency probably wouldn't be a whole lot different from a Clinton presidency. There, I said it.

Anyway, I've prepared for months more of the Change vs. Dynasty argument by stocking up on hammers. Perhaps if I keep crushing them into my skull I'll go to a happy place where American politics doesn't exist.