Thanks, Dick Cop


(Above: I guess I’d pull a kid over that looks like this, too.)

I must have been rollin’ blunts.

Maybe I was throwin’ back a 40.

I could have been snortin’ a line.

Felatio? Nah.

I definitely wasn’t doing any of those things. And I might as well include “ten miles over the limit” as one of them.

Because that shit did not happen.

Stand-up police Officer Schmorganschlagen pulled my long-haired, toothpick, aviator glasses, absolute douche-look-ass over.

And it was because of nothing less than a nasty little thing I like to awkwardly initial DWA.

Motha fucka pulled me over for being awesome.

DWA=Driving While Awesome (if ya didn’t catch that)

The nerve.

But really, it went something like this:

Officer: (I’m a dick) You were going ten over. (Seriously, I’m a dick)

Me: No disrespect, but I disagree

Officer: (Did I mention I was a dick?) I clocked you. I know what I saw.

I deflate into a plush, yet warn down seat. Whatever. He’s a cop, and I’m just a shit head-cross between Chuck Norris and Mick Jagger.

You know, the aviators (no mustache, but I’m trying), the awesome karate skills (made that one up), and the reasonably thin arms.

Yeah, I looked like a tool.

I remember for the longest time, thinking nothing was cooler than those sunglasses, chewing on a toothpick for no true reason, and having sheep-dog hair.

So, while paying for a lame ticket that didn’t make any logical sense, whatsoever, sucked-I learned a valuable lesson. And that lesson, dear friends, doesn’t have a price.

And that lesson is to not be that guy. That could reasonably stand for both, the tool-looking dude who thinks he’s cooler than James Dean (which is pretty fuckin’ cool), or the dick-faced cop.

And while I referred to this cop as a dick throughout my story-telling, in the end, he wasn’t a dick at all. Well, he actually was, but his “being a dick” attitude is what led to me getting pulled over.

So, therefore, I thank you.

Thanks, Dick Cop


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