Monday, March 30, 2009

That Joke's Not Funny Anymore

When I was pregnant, Mike and I got into the habit of staying up late and watching "Cops." It used to be that there were back to back episodes on after one of the late shows. I'd eat my doctor mandated Before Bedtime Meat Product (seriously--I was forced to eat meat before bed. My doctor finally relented and let me switch to cereal after the first trimester)and we would shake our heads at just how dumb all the criminals were. Be it drugs or prostitution or burglary or whatever, it was always the same:

COP: Now tell me the truth...
PERP: I am, Officer!
COP: OK, is this your car?
PERP: Yes!
COP: Where's the registration?
PERP: I mean its my friend's car! It must be his crack under the driver's seat cause it ain't mine!
COP: What's his name?
PERP: What?
COP: His name--what's his name?
PERP: Who?
COP: Your friend who owns the car
COP: Jim who?
PERP: What?

And so on and so on. So last night after the kid went to bed we found an episode of "Cops" and it revolved around a bicycle theft sting operation. They caught this guy stealing a bike and he did a variation on the above dialog, but then they brought over this woman who he'd been working with. This woman and her 6 month old son. Who she'd taken with her to the store to shoplift steaks. She was all kinds of a mess but I had to ask Mike to turn it off--they showed one of the cops holding the kid while they questioned and cuffed the kid's mom and it was just too sad. Come take away my hipster membership card because I've obviously lost my ironic distance.


alienspice said...

that reminds me of the ravenstahl propaganda I got in the mail yesterday. did you see it? on the back he's sitting with his wife and holding his infant on his lap at such an akward angle that it appears the baby will slip out of shot as soon as he lets go. It creeped me out. I had rebby take it to the recycling immediately.

Amy Grant, Stella Dot, & Lemmy said...

Remember my obsession with war and holocaust studies? Remember how everything I read was morose, depressing, and violent. Not anymore, my friend. It is all flowers, self-help, and joy, joy, joy. What? That isn't reality? If it ain't pretty/happy/covered in golden dew, I don't want to know about it.


Some people's dog piss is another person's golden dew. I know what you mean, tho: the whole Photos of Dead People thing--can't do it any more... Now I have to decide (and you probably do as well) keep all those books or get rid of them? Move them to the high shelf? Put framed photos in front of the titles?...