Melissey's very own Cops episode

A journal entry filtered just for you, Melissey, and at your request, a glimpse into my life in the poo-lice. But first I had to show you this pic of me that I just stumbled across, taken when I was still your age. I'd like to attribute the stupid look on my face to the jar in my hand but it only contained water, not everclear. I had actually just gotten out of bed.


academySo here I am as a raw young recruit, a rookie, on graduation day from the New Orleans Police Academy. I gave the thank you speech and presented the plaque we had ordered to the commander of the academy. If you clicky you can look at my crisp, starched, new shirt and the innocent optimism on my face.

I actually did hit somebody with a stick just once. It was while I was still with my field training officer on my first assignment, to the Second District. We had responded to a call from a woman asking us to remove her boyfriend from her apartment. The boyfriend was ripped on something and she couldn't get him to leave. When we first walked in we couldn't immediately see him. There was a curtain hanging over the doorway into the rest of the apartment and my FTO hollered for the boyfriend to come out. Suddenly the curtain was ripped aside. The boyfriend rushed into the front room and grabbed my FTO around the waist, screaming, "I'm not going to jail!!" They took to wrestling on the floor and so I did exactly what I had been trained to do. I took out my baton and started striking the boyfriend as I had been shown, avoiding the head and the joints and other areas that could cause serious injury. I yelled out, "Stop resisting! Stop resisting!" What an ass I was. Of course there was no effect. The boyfriend was holding on to chairs and tables in his effort to avoid being handcuffed and the place just got torn apart. We had called for assistance and this woman cop walked in, took out her baton, and cracked the boyfriend once right across the kneecap. The boyfriend howled like a wounded animal, which he most certainly was at that point, but the fight was over. That was the last time I ever used my baton on anybody and, actually, I almost never got into fights after that. I could talk to people and, also, I was a fairly big fella. I also actually did sometimes take drugs off people and keep them. I used to lurk around drug corners and wait for white suburban kids to buy a bag of pot. Then I would pull them over, take their dime bag, send them back to the suburbs, and give the bag to the hot Magyar chick I was dating at the time. I was never much into arresting drug dealers, having never agreed with the drug laws in this country and also understanding that some of these guys were just trying to make a living, with few other options in life. I certainly used to harass some of the bad ones; the ones with aggravated assault and attempted murder on their rap sheets. I would stop them when they were in their cars and write them multiple traffic tickets. When the cars had no papers I would impound the vehicles. One guy - I wish I could remember his name - I became acquainted with when I chased his brother out of a stolen car. This guy used to run a crew near Tulane Avenue. He would distribute the drugs to his crew and collect money. At least three times I pulled him over and took maybe $3000 to $5000 off him each time. I put the money on the evidence books, making it extremely difficult for him to get it back. There were certainly cops who would just keep the money for themselves.

projectI'm standing in the Calliope Housing Project with Cathy Carter and Ronald Doucette.

Cathy Carter and I were in the detective bureau together. We got burned out from the huge case load after a couple of years and went back to the street. We both ended up volunteering for the community oriented police squad about six months later. Every once in a while Cathy and I used to take the short drive up to the Mississippi Gulf Coast and go gambling in the casinos there. Once we even took an unmarked police unit. Cathy was very short and she used to joke about having another personality that would come out if she got mad, like the Incredible Hulk. She used to say, "Don't make Lucy come out! She'll sneak ya in the parking lot!" Once Cathy was put to the test. She went on a disturbance call in the CJ Peete Housing Development, also known as the Magnolia Project. She got into a fight with some woman high on crack or something. More likely PCP because the woman was sweating a river and, as so often happens in that situation, in the midst of the fight the woman shed the house dress she was wearing. So Cathy was essentially fighting a big naked greased pig, as it were. There were a few people standing around watching. At one point the woman went for Cathy's gun but the people watching prevented it. So the people were essentially letting the fight go on without letting anybody get killed. I guess like arena combat in somebody's project apartment kitchen. Well, Cathy had called for help and about three cars, me in one of them, came in to break it up. I remember running up the stairs of the back stoop, grabbing a guy by his shirt collar and literally lifting him out of my way as I climbed, I was so hopped up on adrenaline. After that, Cathy worked the desk for awhile.

Ronald Doucette's entire family worked for the NOPD I think. His uncle was an assistant chief, which Ronald used to take advantage of. He was a dick and that's about all I remember about him.

floridaWhile I was with the Community Oriented Policing Squad my job gravitated to, primarily, public relations. In fact, I created the first web site the NOPD ever had which got us a newspaper spot and nationwide awareness. The web site is still sitting in 1995 design hell limbo here. I was also involved with our "COPS for Kids" program. My partner on that was Chris Abbott. Last year he was shot four times but survived. Anyway, in "COPS for Kids" we went around and solicited businesses to provide things for the project kids. Like free passes at the aquarium or at movie theaters. I remember Chris Abbott telling me about one trip to the movies where a kid leaned over to him and whispered that this was the first time he had ever been to the movies. The kid pleaded with Chris not to tell the other kids so he wouldn't be teased. Once, the bus we used to transport the kids to wherever broke down. We had to use Big Daddy's pickup truck. Big Daddy was part of a family drug dealing business in the Calliope Project. Big Daddy ran a candy shop on Dorgenois St. He dealt heroin through a hole in the wall to people in the alley out back. He was very smug about loaning his truck to the cops.

What I mostly did in COPS was maintain our computers and the computers of the housing director in the Desire Project since I had become quite the hobbyist while still a detective. I did the typical IT thing of preventing viruses and building databases and such. Eventually I decided I should try and do IT for real money. I was disillusioned with police work and tired of the racism and corruption in New Orleans so off I went to the Silicon Rainforest of Portland, OR. But that's another story.
1.) that was awesome
2.) you kept the drugs. sweet!
3.) "lucy"? crazy black lady...
4.) i think you and i get along so well because we both like to talk about ourselves at length. however, unlike most people who do this, i actually read everything you write while most people bore me someplace in the middle and i end up skimming it all.
Firstly, <3 and ♥ because we do get along quite well. I enjoy your posts because they speak of experience and learning that is so very different from my own.

Also, I've learned that your brain is chock full of the most fascinating names, dates, facts and figures because I see how you fire out references and information like lightning in your posts and comments. Smart broads are hot.

Also, when I re-read what I write I always think I sound like such a pompous ass and that stories about my past seem like the worst narrated slide show from your parent's neighbors showing 400 pictures of the family vacation to Weekie Wachee in which Billy in his buzz-cut and Suzie in her pigtails are displayed, front and center, in EVERY FUCKING SHOT!! But that doesn't stop me from vomiting up every little factoid about my existence when asked because I truly am a self-absorbed but deeply interesting little mollusc.
the last paragraph is exactly how i feel too, sir.

i think i'm so big on the references because i find my own taste superior to other people's and knowing things they do not makes me feel smarter/cooler. Hah! God, I'm immature.
Well don't ever stop with the references because they l'arn me a thing or two.

Also, my friend's son always whines when we play Trivial Pursuit. "Christ, he knows everything!" the son will cry. I guess we two are fact monsters who assuage our inferiority complexes with esoteric knowledge.

Also, please be as immature as you like because it certainly makes my workdays just fly by. I misses me my LiveJournal castevet updates on the weekends.

Christ, Gregg. Gay much?
1.) I bet you could beat me at Trivial Pursuit. I like useless information but I don't absorb it well. I'm mostly into quoting very specific movies. Have you ever noticed how many "Rosemary's Baby" references I use? Even my rabbit is named Dr. Abe Sapirstein.

2.) I'm a faggot, too. Don't let it bring you down.

3.) I should be working.

4.) The guy placing a personal ad right now is named Greg. (He's on the automated system, I'm getting his message)

5.) I told you in my post that I had some other journals and also an entry about belief. Firstly, my first journal was melissey. My next one was loveandalchemy, then I got castevet (another Rosemary's Baby reference.) Then I got friended too much and decided to have a journal for a smaller audience, that's when I got [Bad username: brown_penny&quot;] (from the Yeats poem.) Here's a funny story - oyveyalready and I used to be superbestfriends in real life and this guy I used to room with, dictator88, was our superenemy. D88 thought for the LONGEST TIME that brown_penny was, in fact, oyveyalready (who is Marshall, this was before he had that journal, he changes often. See the man with the big goatee and tophat and lollipop in Tom's stills from THE DOCTOR.) I think sooner or later he found out it was me, not Marshall, so I deserted that journal and switched over to inthenighttime, which I bored of quickly, and replaced with raspenis

I suppoe this reply is getting too long for Ell Jay standards so let me continue...
Sorry, Bad Username in LJ Tag was "brown penny"

And here is a selection from the post I was talking about:

c.) When faced with FACTS or SCIENTIFIC THEORY that is WIDELY ACCEPTED AS TRUTH, I feel guilty, like a deserter. In this instance, I want to believe. I DO believe. In other instances, supernatural without religion, ex. past lives, ghosts, I DON'T want to believe, but do. I want to compare it to growing up and no longer believing in fairy tales, but it's completely different.

The movie THE NEVERENDING STORY has become to me, whether intentional or not, a giant metaphor for religion. I have stated before, no matter how cooky it sounds, that I think WE MADE GOD because we needed something to believe in. And this is not to say that GOD is not REAL, but rather different; in the earth, an ultimate emotion. And our belief in God has kept God alive. But now we no longer believe, and this is why the earth is in such turmoil. Similar to how, in the movie, THE NOTHNIG was destroying the imaginary world because people stopped believing.

That's all.
Thank you so much for sharing these with me. Some of your entries are almost run on sentences!! The selection from your post seems, to me, to be an amalgam of agnosticism and animism, and something else I can't recall at the moment.

Somewhat off the topic, I'm reminded of how I was as a young gastropod. I used to make sure I paid attention to all my toys because I was afraid I would hurt their feelings if I didn't. I was a budding Shinto with bits of obsessive-compulsive disorder thrown in. That's all behind me now, of course. Now I'm only a raving looney.
when i was little i'd sit in my bed and stare at one of my toys from across the room and try to move it with my mind. or i'd say "god, if you really exist, hand me (whatever toy it was)". God never showed!!!