accepting reality and making changes
while locked in a stinky underground cage surrounded by rash, dangerous men for hopping a turnstile in one of the most progressive cities in the world last thursday, i have come to the verifiable conclusion that the nypd are a bloated and useless institution of sensitive and uneducated bullies.
if only to distance my mind from the unfortunate reality of the criminal justice system and the prison industrial complex my lifestyle has been hedonistically curated around writing five page soap operas, working freelance jobs in a glamorous industry, and attending semi-exclusive parties with varieties of designer drugs for sale. but when confronted with the first phase of systematic life destruction and welling up with tears at mere hour 10, i am forced to examine my actions, and the actions of the police, as a lesson in civics and policy:
after i finished my bottle of Smirnoff and bought some ‘za to soak it up responsibly i took a giant step over the turnstile with the litheness of a ballerina and made eye contact with two short, stocky men in polyester blue suits at the base of the stairs. when they greeted me like a bully after my change on the lunch line i stood my ground and responded with drunkard’s confidence that i would like to receive my ticket. bc the cop’s authority (not his safety) was threatened, my savory pizza crust was slapped from my mouth, and my soft wrists met the cold steel of the law.
i laughed at the officer while they routinely inspected my crotch for drugs because i didn’t have work until the following evening, and because being lighthearted in the midst of an aggressor’s wrath is my satyagraha for making them feel inconsequential.
for the two hours i was in the custody of my arresting officers i was called bro more times than all of my four years on the jv wrestling team. they asked me why i jumped over the turnstile (i was clearly drunk) instead of asking me why i thought i was arrested (im shocked that this is a misdemeanor/the officers are pussies).
my drunken ass was more articulate than my sober arresting officers; they garbled every sentence over eight words. the topics i did parse from overhearing their friendly conversations to one another all regarded sports, clash of clans, and where/when they were going to eat next.
when i was finally seated in my cell’s only remaining corner i thought about how the police probably drink lemonade with their pizza, and in the backs of their mind believe in the illuminati…and how they gleefully accept the excuse that COs give inmates, slandering them as liars to disguise the fact that they don’t know anything about the law they enforce…and how the men who probably considered those formative hs years to be their best have never entertained thoughts of a higher education yet are awarded with a cushy career intimidating the public without repercussion.
this is a reality worth weeping for.
a laughable ny post article from last year about “new york’s biggest gang,”(besides the nypd) asserts that there are “525 confirmed members” of a gang called The Mac Baller Brims, (ive never heard of them either) whose stray bullets have “claimed at least five innocent bystanders” since 2006, and “dominate Rikers Island, where they control the contraband and decide who lives and dies.” reading between the lines offers a perspective without spin: gang violence usually involves other gang members, and if an unfortunate bystander is killed the gang members are eventually sentenced to hell island where they are mistreated for eternity and still manage to kill their own and sell drugs. if the biggest gang in nyc is 525 confirmed members in the boonies of the outer boros, why are there “34,000 uniformed police officers patrolling New York’s streets, and 51,000 employees overall — more than the FBI” ?
at least gangs in new york provided the streets with black market goods and respected their leadership. the nypd only knows how to take, and publicly disrespects the mayor, their commander-in-chief. if the troops don’t turn their backs on the president for sending them away from their families to die in an occupied country, why would police turn their backs on a mayor who lets them sit in a car, eating fast food into OT?
“gang violence,” the war on drugs, the war on terror, etc. are all veils that force the public into consent for a police state, with propaganda campaigns to support this fear of “terror” that can be seen and heard on the subways everyday. propaganda is slick, and reflects the marketing techniques of the times; do not expect it to resemble the Soviet Cold War propaganda that was identified in elementary school. expect it to resemble entertainment about capturing child molesters.
becoming a voice of dissent begins by writing on my little blog and making public a record of the fraudulence of the police force; becoming part of the community and peacefully resisting authority is the second step.
upon my return to the precinct where my belongings were held overnight i gave my voucher to an officer with slicked hair behind the desk. i was told to take a seat, bro as the man ignored my voucher to tell his bored colleague a long winded story about an off-duty driving incident sans punchline. i rolled my eyes and paced the precinct nervously until another officer told me, can you please sit down and relax bro? the officer with the slicked hair disappeared, and after five minutes of relaxing another one of the numerous unengaged officers noticed me, apologized for the wait and quickly fetched my belongings.
my turnstile hop in view of the precinct was butter smooth, and i smirked unmolested on the ride home.