Them Ol’ Revolvin’ Door Police Blues

okay, first off, let’s start from the same place.
the mid and late 1970’s (which in Central Texas meant sometime around 1957), Central Texas, small town.
your faithful correspondent is a teenager – long-haired, smoking, drinking, toking up any time there was pot to be had – be it halfway decent import, or the infamous “Peach Creek Shit” – which was grown along the banks of Peach Creek, which also served as the sewage and drainage system of the black side of town.
what’s there to do in Scintillatin’ Smithville for young ‘uns?
you drive up and down the stretch of Hwy 71 that ran through town at the time, from the U-Totem on the southeast side of town to the “Y” on the northwest end of town, where Texas 95 split off from 71.
you do this for hours, night after night, playing your music loud, windows down, waving at your friends who are pacing the same ‘cage’ you are.
most of the cops were okay. as long as you weren’t blatantly breaking the law, they didn’t hassle you.
and then there was Butch… be fucked if i can remember the buttplug’s last name… who, when on duty, rousted kids on the slightest suspicion.
and because of some past encounters, had a special hard-on for me and my friends. Butch is why i was 22 before i could hear the word “assume” and not twitch – because it was my experience it would be followed by “the position”.
damned embarrassing when it happened in class.
so, Butch dated a girl in my class, my best friend’s sister, and of course, he was a perfect gentleman with her.
he also put his dick in any other girl he could get to hold still for it, and some, we suspect, by force.
so one night, another friend of mine and i were headed under the river bridge to smoke some dope. under the bridge had its own set of rules. you cut your lights, you often cut your engine and coasted in so if the cops were staking the place out you might have a chance of ghosting out again,  you didn’t make a lot of noise, you didn’t hassle the other kids down there, you didn’t poke your nose into other people’s business.
so we’re headed down, my friend cuts the lights and the engines, and sure enough, there’s a bad, bad sign… no other cars are down there, which generally meant a cop was down there waiting for a chance to roust us, see if we had anything suspicious in our cars… which we Oh-So-Certainly-Did at that point.
now being the natural-born-coward i am, my sphincter had hit a ’20’ on the 1-10 scale. my friend turns to curve around and make our escape… and we see the cop car.
and it’s rockin’ with the motion o’ lovin’.
i’m all ready for us to just keep on goin’. but my friend is a mouthier smartass sumbitch than me (hard to believe, i know), and he stops the car. gets out of the car, takin’ the keys (FUCKER!), and goes to peer in.
and being a dumbshit, i go with him.
the girl in the backseat? we know her. we also know she’s Underage.
the cop? you guessed it. Butch. pants around his knees, motherfucker hadn’t even taken his equipment belt off.
and my friend knocks on the window.
the girl’s eyes widen to the size of small moons.
Butch appears to have a minor seizure, turning around to see my friend making the “roll your window down” gesture, so loved by our local police.
window rolls down. i seriously think in retrospect, Butch was wondering about the logistics of killing all three of us. “apoplectic”, yes, that would describe his expression.
my friend says “you’re never going to roust us again, are you, Butch?”
tense head shake.
“in face, we can do no wrong, right?”
very tense head shake.
“well then, you and (name redacted) have a good night.”
and we walked away.
it may well have been a week before i shit in anything wider than a micromillimeter stream.
(and yes, we abused the hell out of our new freedom, we were teenagers, what do you expect?)
this speaks to Butch’s character. he was a bully, and we had him by the balls.
so later another little Butch indiscretion comes to light.
see, as a good citizen and public servant, he was a school bus driver.
and as a shithead pervert, he was exposing himself to small children, and using his position as a figure of authority to shut them up.
brought up on charges? don’t be ridiculous. he was let go by the Smithville PD, was hired by another small town PD, with a recommendation from Smithville’s chief.
because fucking pigs take care of their own.
found out later, when he was hired, our chief had heard rumors of his predilections. hired him anyway.
because fucking pigs take care of their own.
all of this was thirty years ago. back in the good old days. before cops felt so threatened. before we gave them military equipment.
so in a literal case of “what do you expect from a pig but a grunt?”, i’m not surprised by anything cops do, and how easily they get away with it.

because fucking pigs take care of their own.

listening to: “Raise What’s Left of the Flag For Me”, Flogging Molly
mood: disgusted

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