The Great Blue World

I was recently forwarded an e-mail that kinda sums up how your friendly neighborhood Policeman feels sometimes.  I had written my own little diatribe on the subject, but this little piece stands well enough on its own

 
 Well, Mr.  Citizen, it seems you've figured me out.  I
 seem to fit neatly into the category where you've
 placed me.  I'm stereotyped,  standardized,
 characterized, classified, grouped, and always
 typical.  Unfortunately, the reverse is true.  I can
 never figure you out.
 
 From birth you teach your children that I'm the
 bogeyman, then you're shocked when they identify with
 my traditional enemy...the criminal!
 
 You accuse me of coddling criminals...until I catch
 your kids doing wrong.
 
 You may take an hour for lunch and several coffee
 breaks each day,  but point me out as a loafer for
 having one cup.
 
 You pride yourself on your manners, but think nothing
 of disrupting my meals with your troubles.
 
 You raise hell with the guy who cuts you off in
 traffic, but let me catch you doing the same thing and
 I'm picking on you.
 
 You know all the traffic laws...but you've never
 gotten a single ticket you deserve.
 
 You shout "foul" if you observe me driving fast to a
 call, but raise the roof if I take more than ten
 seconds to respond to your complaint.
 
 You call it part of my job if someone strikes me, but
 call it Police brutality if I strike back.
 
 You wouldn't think of telling your dentist how to pull
 a tooth or your doctor how to take out an appendix,
 yet you are always willing to give me pointers on the
 law.
 
 You talk to me in a manner that would get you a bloody
 nose from anyone else, but expect me to take it
 without batting an eye.
 
 You yell something's got to be done to fight crime,
 but you can't be bothered to get involved.
 
 You have no use for me at all, but of course it's OK
 if I change a flat for your wife, deliver your child
 in the back of the Patrol car, or perhaps save your
 son's life with mouth to mouth breathing, or work many
 hours overtime looking for your lost Daughter.
 
 So, Mr.  Citizen, you can stand there on your soapbox
 and rant and rave about the way I do my work, calling
 me every name in the book, but never stop to think
 that your property, family, or maybe even your life
 depends on me or one of my buddies.
 
 Yes, Mr.  Citizen, it's me...the lousy cop!
 
 The author of this article was Trooper Mitchell Brown
 of the Virginia State Police.  He was killed in the
 line of duty two months after writing the article.  As
 a salute to the millions of men and women police
 officers who put their lives on the line for us
 everyday, please pass this on.
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