Well, Mr. Citizen, I guess you've figured me out. I seem to fit neatly in the category where you have placed me. I am stereotyped, characterized, standardized, classified, grouped and always typical.
Unfortunately, the reverse is not true--
I can never figure you out!
From birth you teach your children that I am the boogeyman, and then you're shocked when they identify with my traditional enemy, the criminal! You accuse me of coddling juveniles
until I catch YOUR kid doing wrong.
You may take an hour for lunch and several coffee breaks each day, but point me out as a loafer if you catch me having just one cup! You pride yourself on your polished manners, but think nothing of disrupting my meals with your troubles.
You raise hell with the guy who cuts you off in traffic,
but let me catch you doing the same thing, and I'm picking on you.
You know all the traffic laws, but have never gotten a ticket you deserve!
You shout "foul" if you observe me driving too fast to an emergency call, but raise hell if I take more than ten seconds to respond to your call.
You call it "part of my job" if someone strikes me,
but it's police brutality if I strike back.
You would not think of telling your dentist how to pull a badly decayed tooth, or your doctor how to remove your appendix, but are always willing to give me a few pointers on the law. You talk to me in a manner that would assure a bloody nose from anybody else, but expect me to take it without batting an eye.
You cry "Something has got to be done about all the crime!" but you can't be bothered with getting involved. You have no use for me at all, but of course it's OK if I change a flat tire for your wife, or deliver your child in the back seat of my patrol car on the way to the hospital, or save your son's life with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, or work many hours overtime
looking for your lost daughter.
So, Mr. Citizen, you stand there on your soapbox and rant and rave about the way I do my work, calling me every name in the book, but never stopping to think that your property, your family, or even your life, depends on me or one of my buddies.
Yes, Mr. Citizen. It's me, the "lousy cop!"
Submitted by co-worker, whose hubby is full-time Sheriff's Deputy
A PART OF AMERICA DIED TODAY
Somebody killed a policeman today,
and a part of America died...
A piece of this country he swore to protect,
will be buried with him at his side...
The beat that he worked was a battlefield, too,
Just as if he had gone off to war.
The flag of our country won't fly at half mast,
To his name they will add a gold star.
and a part of America died...
A piece of this country he swore to protect,
will be buried with him at his side...
The beat that he worked was a battlefield, too,
Just as if he had gone off to war.
The flag of our country won't fly at half mast,
To his name they will add a gold star.
The suspect that shot him
will stand up in court
with counsel demanding his rights,
while a youg widowed mother
must work to feed her children
and spend many, long, lonely nights.
Yes, somebody killed a policeman today,
maybe in your town or mine...
while we slept in comfort behind locked doors
a cop put his life on the line.
Now his ghost walks the beat
on a dark city street
And he stands at each rooky's side.
He answered his call,
of himself he gave his all,
and part of America has died.
in memory of all law enforcement officers slain in the line of duty
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