Hey Blue!!! Pick on somebody your own size!!!

On my way into work today, I saw one of those things that was both dumbfounding and frustrating. Granted, I see/hear/experience a lot of shit that I find aggravating and bewildering these days, but this one was... well, at least somewhat noteworthy. And even if it's not, I don't care. I find you aggravating and frustrating as well.

So as I said, I was on my way to the Ranch for my daily dose of Hubris and Hate (I know you were wondering when I was going to bring that in, weren't you?), when I happened upon a curious sight. As I was winding my way through a medium commerical district on the Rock, the neighborhood where I live, on my way towards the freeway which will take me into the City, I noted that traffic was a bit heavier, moving a bit slower than the previous day. This is notable only in that yesterday's traffic had been incredibly light. I mean, I was truly blessed by the Traffic Gods (who must really despise my fair City, based on their usual daily dosage of pain and despair) yesterday. In fact, I enjoyed a generous helping of conveyance karma by hitting a green light on EVERY TRAFFIC SIGNAL between my hacienda and the Ranch. I mean, we're talking easily 12 traffic control lights. And every one of them GREEN!!! Now I realize that this being a holiday week, the normally congested highways and byways of this metropolis, which usually flows like the blood in a 5 cheeseburger-a-day-eatin', no exercising, corpulant couch potato, is actually going to move smoother than a constipated bowel with a double dose of ExLax. But ALL GREENS?!?!?! Well, it was just too good to be true.

And it was. For as I swung through the last intersection seperating the humble residential sector from the low brow, slightly dingy string of fast food resturants, chiropractic offices and dry cleaners, the traffic flow noticably slowed, in comparision to the previous day. Nothing like it normally is when some fuck-tard has decided to smear himself and perhaps one or two other innocent motorists all over the jersey barrier and blacktop of the Bridge, but still slower than Monday. And when you have a day with nothing but green lights, well, you hope for a repeat.

So, as I slowed my buggy to the less than optimal speed of those commuters around me, I could see ahead in the distance, perhaps four or five blocks ahead, the tell-tale flashing lights of our city's finest in law enforcement, swirling with verve and vigor atop the battle cruiser. I could tell that the "police activity" was just this side of the main entrance to the Rock, so I was pleased that I would at least get a look at whatever human passion play was unraveling before hitting the highway. Regardless of my mild aggravation at the slight delay in my journey, I so do love glimpsing into the drama, pain and suffering that flavors the human existence.

But as I drew near, I became a bit confused, bewildered if you will. When I was within a block and a half of the soap opera, I could discern not one, not two, not even three, but FIVE sector cars, all parked at various angles incongruent with the prescribed traffic patterns and geographical features of the block. That's right, FIVE cop cars, all seemingly centered on and oriented around one focal point.

Well, I finally got my chance at the brief glimpse into what was "really going on", and that was the moment that I became.....

Outraged? No, this was not quite egregious.

Incensed? Perhaps, but most likely not for the reasons that you would initially guess.

Overcome with the injustice of it all? Umm, no. I think you have the wrong (underpants).

Frustrated with the obvious absurdity? You bet yer ASS!!!

Because, Friends and Neighbors, what I beheld, as I passed that little After-School-Special dramatization of Real Life on this particular Tuesday, was at least seven (7!!!) uniformed City Police Officers handling a single, unkempt man in his early 40's. A man, who by casual observence from a distance of perhaps 8 meters, was seated on the curb, obviously confused and disoriented, and in need of some proper grooming.

And while I think it very important that every city's transient population maintain a city dignity, there is no excuse for such aggressive enforcement of the "Bum Code of Ethics."

This guy wasn't doing anything wrong that I could see. Sure, he was acting a little manic, but hey, wouldn't you if you were told to sit on the curb of a busy street while a whole battalion of Seattle Super Stazi circled around you like so many sharks in the ocean, just waiting for a chance to go "Rodney King" on your ass? Sure you would.

And it's not like he was COMPLETELY filthy, or anything. He had the requisite amount of dirt and grime buildup, but he seemed like a respectable enough street dude.

The sad truth is, this guy is probably one of those cats that is in dire need of some drug rehab or mental health care and unfortunately, just isn't quite needy or far-gone enough to merit some decent social services from a local, state or federal program. So he's been put out on his own, and with no supportive social network out there to help him along, he's left to his own devices.

Which puts him square in the laps of those folks who are least equipped and least responsible for him. Those underpaid, righteous frontline defenders of post-modern society and civilization as a whole.

The humble stormtrooper.

So I say, leave the trippy cat alone and move along. There's nothing to see here.

Post: The subject in question, was seen the very next day, on the opposite side of the street, ranting and raving about something as the morning commuters whizzed buy in their UAV's (urban assault vehicles), sipping their pre-work dosage of caffien and Rush Limbaugh/Al Franken (depending on who's bumper sticker they've plastered on their vehicle), completely unencumbered with the social constraints of the Metro Polcie Squad.

Post post: Sorry 'bout the delay. I've been having some of that writer's block that Missus J was describing a few days back.