I hate people
I don’t really hate people, let’s be honest. Misanthropy is the easy way out. I like you, really I do!
A couple of recent incidents have gotten me all riled up. Remember the Henry Louis Gates debacle? Well, C. deals with the same kind of ludicrous situations every day, but it doesn’t make national headlines because the people he arrests aren’t prominent scholars. It just gives him a headache. But it doesn’t matter — people are people; we all do dumb stuff, and we suffer the consequences.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Stop hating on the five-oh. Sure, the officer who gave you that speeding ticket didn’t cut you a break, didn’t even smile at you, and oh yes, you’re hilarious with your cop jokes, muttering to your friends, “Does somebody smell bacon?” whenever you see a man or woman in uniform, but when you hear a window smash in your house at 2 a.m., and you fumble for your cell phone to call 911 in terror, whispering, “There’s someone in my house,” that same cop is racing toward you, lights and sirens breaking through the thick night, to save you.
Show some respect.