Happy Krimble and Marry Spew Year to all you pretzel-necks and scuzz-buckets. Johnnypeepers is pissedoff! Consequently, I ain’t (in no shape or form) interested in putting up with no bullshit. I haven’t been able to post in a while due to circumstances beyond my muthafuckin’ control.
I had an unfortunate run-in with a couple of cognitively-challenged mustachioed fuzz-felchers over the holidays. Evidently, it is a fricken’ crime to navigate vehicular machinery in the hood with an inoperable license plate light (and to have a “slight” buzz with a punk-ass roach in your ashtray).
Long story short, Johnnypeepers needed a little herbal mistletoe to ease my glaucoma pressure. I cruised downtown to pay a visit to my favorite unlicensed pharmacist to score a quarter-bag and a $20 rock for a certain Caucasoid-trash bitch I know (I been pummeling her skanked-out guts on the side until I can finagle an upgrade).
As I was easing down the street towards my destination, I noticed a swine-mobile dead on my ass with them lights flashing. I immediately said to myself – “ahhhh shit”. I pulled my shit over and the coppers took their sweet time getting over to my window. The first thing I heard was “keep your hands where we can see them” and “don’t try no funny stuff.” I done been fucked with enough times by these power-hungry ego-maniacal pricks to know the best thing to do is keep your dumbass mouth shut and do what they say (unless your name is Abner Louima).
A shiny jack-booted police-state thug with a chrome dome and a giant pinch of chaw in his mouth blurted out that it was his duty to ensure the roads was safe for the town’s citizens. He said my ride failed to conform to municipal code because my license plate light was blowed out. He then asked if he could look in my vehicle because there were reports that there was some “drug activity” in the area.
This was a critical juncture in the conversation – and I fucked up with all the might I could muster. Since I was still buzzing on several Colt .45 tall-boys, I wanted to look like I had nothing to hide. I figured that these righteous defenders of the peace would see that I was a upstanding citizen happy to abide with their request, and they would bid me farewell with a warning. Fat friggen’ chance my friends – the fuzz were in no mood to cut Johnnypeepers an ounce of slack.
I stepped out of my ride and tripped on my damn shoelace in the process. The bubble-lipped bastard in blue asked me if I had anything to drink and I gave the obligatory “I had a couple of drinks earlier in the afternoon, but I was sober now” bullshit reply. My clumsy vehicle exit, coupled with the noxious odor of malt liquor on my breath, resulted in a pathetic field sobriety test performance and a convoluted backwards alphabet recital. I was told that I was being arrested for being under the suspicion of driving while intoxicated. Next thing I know, Chrome-dome was on the CB asking for back-up and proceeded to pat down your’s truly.
If it was a standard DUI bust, I woulda been alright, but there’s more. The other copper found a miniscule roach in my ashtray. The hit was all shake and probably consisted of oregano and Lucky Strike tobacco from what I can recall. Luckily, I had not made it to the urban pharmacy, or I woulda got in a shit-load more trouble, but that is besides the point. I was cuffed, stuffed, and ushered to the lock-up with my desperate Christmas Eve pleadings falling on deaf fuzz ears.
T o my credit, I opted out of Mel Gibson’s DUI mitigation strategy. Lambasting the Red Sea Pedestrians for all of the World’s woes strikes me as a poorly-crafted tactic for demonstrating one’s sobriety. Not only that, but parroting Mel’s claim that “I own this town” would have been laughable given my Salvation Army duds and barely-operable shit-wagon. I got to admit, it would have been fun to ask a female pig “what are you looking at sugar-tits?” I have to give Mel props on that one.
Since I didn’t have any bail money, I had to cruise it out in the pokey until I had my first appearance on Wednesday. I was released pending a future trial and I had to forfeit my license for 6 months. I was assigned a public defender who probably said 8 words to me in the 30 seconds I got to talk to him. Basically, he said I should expect a 30-day sentence and a $1500 fine when I go to court. My extended record of pol-pol entanglements ain’t gonna help matters either.
I know that the hood dragnet is just a front to deprive the brother man from earning a living. Don’t nobody give two flying chunks of excrement about a tail-light being out in the white folks neighborhoods. Hell, them pigs is even kind enough to give you a heads up and recommend the closest Auto-Zone for your convenience. That shit fucked up the end of a good year for me. Hopefully, I can roll out of this mess unscathed. I got a feelin’ that ’08 is gonna work out for me though – so I ain’t sweatin’ this bull too tough.
I’m seeing blue and red flashing deep in the night
I got my alibi straight and I pulled over to the right
Cop knocked on my window and said Boy where’s the fire
You’ve got a mailbox on your bumper and a bald front tire
*Outta the car longhair* your goose is cooked
Read me my rights fingerprinted and booked
Makin’ like a D.T. driving a Gran Fury – Wherever I hang my hat’s my home and my past is kind of blurry
Every dog will have its day and mine will be in front of a jury
I’m the High Plains Drifter and I’m never in a hurry
Beastie Boys – “High Plains Drifter”