Over two weeks without a goddamn post. Let's see what I can pull outta my ass for you pathetic shitweasels.

Okay. Here's a police harassment story from Crisco Boy:

THE DONUT SHOP MUST’VE BEEN CLOSED
by Crisco Boy
This has gotta be the mutha of all Police Harassment stories, especially since I wasn’t even in my car, nor was it even running! As a matter of fact, the piece of shit was just sitting in my own fucking parking lot - the parking lot of my $800/ month apartment! Now you would think that for $800/ month, I wouldn’t get fucked with, but that’s not the case. Anyway, here’s what happened: It’s Christmas eve/ day 1995 about 2:30 am, and instead of visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, I’m getting a call from the Jeffersonville (IN) police department. They give me a description of my car and ask if I’m the proud owner. Of course I’m about as friendly and helpful as anyone getting awakened at 2:30 am can possibly be. I tell them that the car is mine, and then quickly ask what the fuck is going on and why they’re calling so late. The wouldn’t tell me over the phone, and said I needed to come downstairs with my driver’s license ready. I then proceed to tell them to fuck off and hang up on them. Needless to say, five minutes later they’re knocking on my door. I answer the door and there’s five cops in my hallway, all of them pissed and yelling because I didn’t come downstairs on command. Well, they proceed to tell me that they searched my parked car and had found some pot and paraphernalia in the glove box. I ask what probable cause they had to search my car, and they go on to explain to me that because my trunk didn’t shut, they thought the car was stolen. Never mind the fact that the car had been wrecked four years previous to this incident and that the trunk was held shut by bungee cords. Any idiot could’ve seen that The car was also parked right in front of the address to which it was registered! But I guess that Barney Fife and crew weren’t smart enough to figure out that if one were to steal a car, it would be in the thief’s best interest to drive the motherfucker away from the owner’s house! Anyway, they continue to harass me and make threats of jail time and the penalties associated with possession of marijuana. By now it’s 3:00 am, and I feel I’ve been kept up long enough by these motherfuckers so I give them the “arrest my ass or let me go back to bed” routine. After all, I don’t pay taxes so these pigs can come up to my place at 3:00 am to give me a lecture on the dangers of marijuana usage. They say that a narcotics officer would be getting in touch with me in the “near future.” It’s been four years - still no word. Gee, I wonder what happened to my “drugs and paraphernalia” that they “confiscated”, ha ha. As for my car, they totally trashed it. They even hung my girlfriend’s panties on the rearview mirror. Now if that doesn’t spell professionalism, I don’t know what does. It’s good to know they made their “big drug bust” that night. Those murders and rapists can wait, huh?

That's it.
Now, go Burn in Hell
posted by El Bastardo at 9:09 PM