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
and asks him to take a Breathalyzer test.
"I can't do that because I'm asthmatic,"
says the man.
"The Breathalyzer 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."
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. *********************************************** _______________JOKE_________________ When I went to get my driver's license renewed,
our local Motor Vehicle Bureau was packed.
The line inched along for almost an hour
until the man ahead of me finally got his license.
He inspected his photo for a moment
and commented to the clerk,
"I was standing in line so long,
I ended up looking pretty grouchy in this picture."
The clerk looked at his picture closely,
and reassured him,
when the cops pull you over anyway." ______________________________ 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,