I HAVE COLLECTED
While you sleep, we're out there.
When you're sitting down
To Thanksgiving dinner, or celebrating Christmas,
We're out there.
When it's raining and cold,
And you're glad to be in your home with your family,
We're out there.
When it's your children's birthday,
We're out there.
When it's OUR children's birthday,
We're still out there.
You put on a suit and dress to go to work;
We strap on a ballistic vest and a gun.
There is little room for error in your job,
In ours there is none.
An error by you means a demotion;
An error by us means a funeral.
When you tell your families
"See you tonight" as you leave for work,
You mean it.
When we tell our families that,
We pray we will.
At your job you strive to succeed,
At our job we strive to survive.
In your job,
One bad person is the talk of the office,
In our job;
One bad officer makes the news
And suddenly were all bad.
In these headlines it's not what good we've done,
But how much better it could have been done.
When you're scared
You call us,
When we're scared,
We must carry on.
When you're eating a home cooked meal,
We're having another hamburger.
While you're asleep with your spouse,
Ours sleeps alone.
So the next time you're out with family or friends,
And you see a patrol car go by,
Remember the incredible sacrifice made by these officers every day.
Inside that patrol car
Is a person that sacrifices his or her life,
Both professionally and personally
---------------------------author unknown __top2 joke_______________________________________
and asks him to take a Breathalyzer test.
"I can't do that because I'm asthmatic,"
says the man.
"The Breathlyzer could bring on an attack."
So the cop suggests a urine sample.
"I'm a diabetic, so my urine always has strange stuff in it."
"Well," says the angry cop,
"why don't you just get out of the car and walk this white line?"
"Sorry," says the man, "but I can't do that either."
"Why not?" asks the officer.
The man looks at him and says
"Because I'm drunk."
------- top3 _______ Let's see if I understand
the state of personal responsibility
in the America of the 1990s.
If a woman burns her thighs
on the hot coffee she was holding in her lap while driving,
she blames the restaurant.
If your teen-age son kills himself,
you blame the rock 'n' roll musician he liked.
If you smoke three packs a day for 40 years and die of lung cancer
your family blames the tobacco company.
If your daughter gets pregnant by the football captain
you blame the school for poor sex education.
If your neighbor crashes into a tree while driving home drunk,
you blame the bartender.
If your cousin gets AIDS because the needle he used to shoot heroin was dirty,
you blame the government for not providing clean ones.
If your grandchildren are brats without manners,
you blame television.
If your friend is shot by a deranged madman,
you blame the gun manufacturer.
And if your son commits armed robbery,
then shoots the officer that is arresting him
you blame police brutality for his death.
God bless America, land of the free, home of the blame. ____ top4 A COP'S TEAR
When God Made Police Officers . . .
When the Lord was creating Police Officers,
He was into his sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared and said,
"You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And the Lord said,
"Have you read the requirements on this order?
A Police Officer has to be able to run five miles
through alleys in the dark,
scale walls, enter homes the health inspector wouldn't touch,
and not wrinkle their uniform."
"They have to be able to sit
in an undercover car all day on a stakeout,
cover a homicide scene that night,
canvass the neighborhood for witnesses,
and testify in court the next day."
"They have to be in top physical condition
at all times, running on black coffee and half-eaten meals,
and they have to have six pairs of hands."
The angel shook her head slowly and said,
"Six pairs of hands . . . no way!!"
"It's not the hands that are causing me problems,"
said the Lord, "it's the three pairs of eyes an officer has to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.
The Lord nodded. "One pair that sees through a bulge in a pocket
before they ask, 'May I see what's in there, sir?'"
(when they already know and wish they'd taken that accounting job)
"Another pair here in the side of their head for their partner's safety,
and another pair of eyes here in front
so they can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim
and say, 'You'll be alright, ma'am,' when they know it isn't so."
"Lord," said the angel, touching His sleeve,
"rest and work on this tomorrow."
"I can't," said the Lord,
"I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound
drunk into a patrol car without incident
and feed a family of five on a civil service paycheck."
The angel circled the model of the Police Officer very slowly.
"Can it think?" she asked.
"You bet," said the Lord,
"it can tell you the elements of a hundred crimes,
recite Miranda warnings in its sleep,
detain, investigate, search,
and arrest a gang member on the street
in less time than it takes five learned judges to debate the legality of the stop . . .
and still it keeps its sense of humor.
This officer also has phenomenal personal control.
They can deal with crime scenes painted in hell,
coax a confession from a child abuser,
comfort a murder victim's family,
and then read in the daily paper how law enforcement
isn't sensitive to the rights of criminal suspects."
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the Police Officer.
"There's a leak," she pronounced,
"I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model."
"That's not a leak," said the Lord. "It's a tear."
"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.
"It's for bottled-up emotions, for fallen comrades,
for commitment to that funny piece of cloth called the American flag,
top5-------__________________________________ The following exchanges are taken from transcripts of 911 calls: Caller: "I'd like to make a unanimous complaint, so don't use my name." Caller: "I'm reporting a deer on the road. I almost hit it." Call-taker: "Is the deer alive?" Caller: "Oh, no, it's run over. Many, many cars. Again and again, and - OH NO!!! NOT AGAIN!" Caller: "Am I talking to a real person, or this a recording?" Caller: "We might (cough) need the fire department here (cough)." Caller: "Is it okay for a civilian to take a person to the hospital, or does the ambulance have to do it?" Caller: (irate) "That's 'W' as in Williams and 'Y' as in why." Caller (on realizing the police are on the way): "Get the keg outta here, dude!" Caller: "He's not breathing!" Call-taker: "Can you get the phone close to him? Caller: "WHY? You want to hear he's not breathing, too?" Call-taker: "Does she have any weapons?" Caller: "Well, she has real long finger nails." Call-taker: "We'll need a description of him." Caller: "He's a lawyer." Caller: "No, she just didn't fall...I helped her!" Complaint about a stolen mailbox: Call-taker: "What is your address?" Caller: "It's gone." Caller: "I'm scared, I just got a Ouija board for my birthday, and now there's writing on my wall and I can't get it off... ...this thing is going back to K-Mart first thing in the morning! JOKE---- An old farmer was hauling a load of manure when he was stopped by a state trooper. "You were speeding," the cop said. "I'm going to have to give you a ticket." "Yep," the farmer said as he watched the trooper shoo away several flies. "These flies sure are terrible," the trooper complained. "Yep," the farmer said. "Them are circle flies." "What's a circle fly?" "Them flies that circle a horse's tail," answered the farmer. "Them are circle flies." "You wouldn't be calling me a horse's rear, would you?" the trooper angrily asked. "Nope, I didn't," the farmer replied. "But you just can't fool them flies." end 2--more cop tears You're Not A Cop Until You Taste Them The department was all astir, there was a lot of laughing and joking due to all the new officers! , myself included, hitting the streets today for the first time. After months of seemingly endless amounts of classes, paperwork, and lectures we were finally done with the Police Academy and ready to join the ranks of our department. All you could see were rows of cadets with huge smiles and polished badges. As we sat in the briefing room, we could barely sit still anxiously awaiting our turn to be introduced and given our beat assignment or, for the lay person, our own portion of the city to "serve and protect". It was then that he walked in. A statue of a man - 6 foot 3 and 230 pounds of solid muscle, he had black hair with highlights of gray and steely eyes that make you feel nervous even when he wasn't looking at you. He had a reputation for being the biggest and the smartest officer to ever work our fair city. He had been on the department for longer than anyone could remember and those years of service had made him into somewhat of a legend. The new guys, or "rookies" as he called us, both respected and feared him. When he spoke even, the most seasoned officers paid attention. It was almost a privilege when one the rookies got to be around when he would tell one of his police stories about the old days. But we knew our place and never interrupted for fear of being shooed away. He was respected and revered by all who knew him. After my first year on the department I still had never heard or saw him speak to any of the rookies for any length of time. When he did speak to them all he would say was, "So, you want to be a policeman do you hero? I'll tell you what! t, when you can tell me what they taste like, then you can call yourself a real policeman." This particular phrase I had heard dozens of times. Me and my buddies all had bets about "what they taste like" actually referred to. Some believed it referred to the taste of your own blood after a hard fight. Others thought it referred to the taste of sweat after a long day's work. Being on the department for a year, I thought I knew just about everyone and everything. So one afternoon, I mustered up the courage and walked up to him. When he looked down at me, I said "You know, I think I've paid my dues. I've been in plenty of fights, made dozens of arrests, and sweated my butt off just like everyone else. So what does that little saying of yours mean anyway?" With that, he merely stated, "Well, seeing as how you've said and done it all, you tell me what it means, hero." When I had no answer, he shook his head and snickered, rookies," and walked away. The next evening was to be the worst one to date. The night started out slow, but as the evening wore on, the calls became more frequent and dangerous. I made several small arrests and then had a real knock down drag out fight. However, I was able to make the arrest without hurting the suspect or myself. After that, I was looking forward to just letting the shift wind down and getting home to my wife and daughter. I had just glanced at my watch and it was 11:55, five more minutes and I would be on my way to the house. I don't know if it was fatigue or just my imagination, but as I drove down one of the streets on my beat, I thought I saw my daughter standing on someone else's porch. I looked again but it was not my daughter as I had first thought but merely a small child about her age. She was probably only six or seven years old and dressed in an oversized shirt that hung to her feet. She was clutching an old rag doll in her arms that looked older than me. I immediately stopped my patrol car to see what she was doing outside her house at such an hour by herself. When I approached, there seemed to be a sigh of relief on her face. I had to laugh to myself, thinking she sees the hero policeman come to save the day. I knelt at her side and asked what she was doing outside. She said "My mommy and daddy just had a really big fight and now mommy won't wake! up." My mind was reeling. Now what do I do? I instantly called for backup and ran to the nearest window. As I looked inside I saw a man standing over a lady with his hands covered in blood, her blood. I kicked open the door, pushed the man aside and checked for a pulse, but unable to find one. I immediately cuffed the man and began doing C.P.R. on the lady. It was then I heard a small voice from behind me, "Mr. Policeman, please make my mommy wake up." I continued to perform C.P.R. until my backup and medics arrived but they said it was too late. She was dead. I then looked at the man. He said, "I don't know what happened. She was yelling at me to stop drinking and go get a job and I had just had enough. I just shoved her so she would leave me alone and she fell and hit her head." As I walked the man out to the car in handcuffs, I again saw that little girl. In the five minutes that has passed, I went from hero to monster. Not only was I unable to wake up her mommy, but now I was taking daddy away too. Before I left the scene, I thought I would talk to the little girl. To say what, I don't know. Maybe just to tell her I was sorry about her mommy and: daddy. But as I approached, she turned away and I knew it was useless and I would probably make it worse. As I sat in the locker room at the station, I kept replaying the whole thing in my mind. Maybe if I would have been faster or done something different, just maybe that little girl would still have her mother. And even though it may sound selfish, I would still be the hero. It was then that I felt a large hand on my shoulder. I heard that all too familiar question again, "Well, hero, what do they taste like?" But before I could get mad or shout some sarcastic remark, I realized that all the pent up emotions had flooded the surface and there was a steady stream of tears cascading down my face. It was at that moment that I realized what the answer to his question was. Tears. With that, he began to walk away, but he stopped. "You know, there was nothing you could have done differently," he said. "Sometimes you can do everything right and still the outcome is the same. You may not be the hero you once thought you were, but now you ARE a police officer. _________________________________________ end1
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