Sep 15 2007
I know what New Orleans means
Two years ago I told my mother I was going to join the United States Army. Her reaction perplexed me. I expected her to be concerned that I would be sent strait to Iraq, and the wonderful Interstate system there. But to my surprise she was full of joy, almost ecstatic about the thought of her boy going to war. To put this strangeness in context, she was a nurse during the Vietnam conflict and witnessed the trauma of war and married a disordered and stressed out veteran. She’s also a devout Christian who does unto others as she would have them due onto her and turns the unslapped side of her face to her foes. I’m still a little confused that she didn’t mind me stating that I wanted to blast radical Muslim brains out.
The day before I was to sign my life away, I was painting en plein air in Los Angeles’ China town. After I finished my painting I went into the most popular food establishment and got some grub. I was shocked to find out these Americans ate deep fried chicken feet. I’ve eaten tongue, I’ve eaten foie gras, I’ve even eaten sea urchin but chicken feet bones is way past my tolerance limit. After I finished my plate of rice and mysterious animal parts, I walked the streets looking for starving artist apparel. I found bright blue camo shirts that were ridiculously inexpensive and thought it would be a good idea to “blend” in at orientation. The merchant had an Arab accent so I asked where he was from. It turns out he was from Iraq. I told him I was about to join the Army to see what his reaction would be. At first he got upset and tried to talk me out of it, but the more he talked to me the more his attitude changed. He began to like me and my civil mindedness. When I left he was wishing me well and said the Army needed more people like me in it. Back at the requiting office I got my ASVAB back with a score of 85. I was to come back the next day to take the piss test and get sworn in.
That evening I had a bizarre experience and wrote this:
I have been in Hollywood, working out, going to the recruiter every other day. Today I hiked Mount Runyon. I was almost to the top and picked up a smooth rock and held it in my hand. The first word in my head was, “Projectile”. I debated with myself about the first weapons mankind used, “Was it the rock or the stick?” Then I started wondering if the first person that used a rock to fight with, did they throw it, drop it or use it in their hand. Then I started to wonder why I can’t stop wondering about things, especially weapons. I guess it’s part of having testosterone.At the summit I was out of wind. I was bummed because I hadn’t run across any reptiles, for I love chatting with my friends. There was a small bird perched in some shrubs that went tweet tweet. Being polite I tweeted back. I love talking to my friends. They usually don’t understand this English thing so I try my best speaking there language. I aaakkkkk at squirrels, meeeoooww at cats, and whistle at birds. But something very strange happened when I started talking with this bird. It jumped to flight and started flying around my head in 30 yard ellipses. I thought it might be a nest issue but there was no nest or little ones to be seen. This was a tiny bird and had short parrot like wings. It made incredible sharp banks at an alarming speed. I guess around 40 miles an hour. Then it started making maneuvers around my head. I’m not exaggerating. This bird was dive bombing my skull, literally coming a foot from my face at 40 miles an hour. I could hear the swoosh which was strange from anything that small and organic. Why was it doing this?
On my way down I stared out and looked at my favorite building in LA. It’s the most unique one I’ve ever been in. I’ve spent a great deal of time occupying the net with joe. It contains a school for TV actors, an Internet coffee shop and the US military recruiting office. An odd combo for sure. As I was looking at the building staring at the picture of Donald Trump polishing JR’s shoes, I noticed a large sign in front. This is what the sign says, “6 - 6 - 06 The signs are all around you”. Fuckin’ Weird.
I decided not to join, after staring at the camo covered bible on the recruiters desk and the episode of “Over there” playing in the office showed a soldier getting his legs blown off in a Hum V. The bad cop of the good cop bad cop team told me that I was a Zero and everything I’ve done up to this point in my life was worthless, that cooking was for pussies, that my family would never have any respect for me and my art sucked. That was all I needed to hear, I don’t work for idiots.
Two years later I’m back in New Orleans rejoicing in how wonderful it is to be here instead of Baghdad. I bet when most of the American Nationalists think of New Orleans they picture puke and tits on Bourbon street, trash, gansta rap and .45s, corrupt politics, and “Essence / Bam”. I knew a guy who sold Emerald Legacies coke (or pepsi, I can’t remember which) and he said he wasn’t that bad of a cook. But any one who knows what it means to miss New Orleans knows that this is the richest spot on the continent. We’ve giving birth to dynamic celebrations, great food, great literature, shitty levees, great artists, great music, and we used to have a great public hospital. The Federation has cursed us with a welfare state situation and the ignorance it breeds. The resources the Nation steals, duty free, off our coast cripples the funding of our public schools; and the wetlands, our natural hurricane protection. But in comparison to the other cities I’ve sampled in the United States, they haven’t an ounce of the soul we have. I’ve decided to supplement my income by joining the New Orleans Police Department. This is a place in time and space that’s worth protecting.
When I told my Pennsylvanian mother that I was joining the NOPD she answered with silence. I even sensed a level of anger. Why in Christendom would my mother prefer her only son to fight as a grunt, in a bogus war, in the middle of a desert, rather than protect an American Gem?
From the contagious compulsion to capture the visually stimulating beauty we’re drenched in…
…to a family that makes “Snow Balls” an art form. I love New Orleans.
It’s pretty obvious to me why you mother has had the reactions she’s had.
First, she was happy to hear you were joining the army because you scare the shit out of her. She thinks you are mental and not doing anything with your life and that with the army, at least you would be doing something and possibly even learn some discipline and get a real job after leaving.
Second, her silent response, after you telling her you want to be a cop, is probably a mixture of two things. One, her ex-husand was a cop and a total dick head, so she probably envisions you being just like your father and that sucks. Two, she might not believe you are serious since you didn’t go through with your army deal.
He was in the Army ten times longer than on the police force. He was born an Asshole; she thought a good rural church would straiten him out. Though it is logical that my mother my mom thinks I wouldn’t do it because she views me as a quitter, she can tell from my voice when I’m serious about something. You should know, I told her I was going to marry you when I was 17, told her I was going to move to Key West when I was 18 and told her I was going to live in a minivan traveling around the country for a year and I completed all those missions.
Perhaps your mother’s silent response had something to do with the indecision that I’m currently feeling. On one hand I think NOPD definitely needs more cops that actually like the place and that aren’t racist assholes, in which case you as a cop is a good thing.
On the other hand I wonder what the stress level of that sort of thing would do to you…I love you, but you do have rather strange stress reactions and being a cop is a stressful as shit job no matter where you are. My dad’s a cop so I’ve got pretty good insight on it. Not to mention the idea of you with a gun scares the shit out of me.
Lastly you’ve picked one of the most dangerous cities in the country to do this in. In this case my argument against the military still stands: I’d rather you not get shot.
All in all I’m not sure what I think about you joining the NOPD. I’m leaning towards “not a good idea”, but I’m not as opposed to it as I was to the Army thing. Although I don’t understand why you can’t just get a shitty office gig like every other starving artist does…work for the newspaper or something man, damn!
There is a mental evaluation test applicants have to pass. I assume they try to see if they can break you. Newspaper? I want to be the news, not report it
I agree with Sparkbaby, you+gun=scary!
WHATEVER
I think Robert might make a good cop? No ?
If you want to be a cop, go for it. You’ll find out soon enough if copland is for you.
I’ve never thought much of cops; but I now realize that it’s because I ran into a couple of turds when I was quite young and the experiences were burned into my little pea brain.
Of course I don’t know you very well, but my only concern with you being a cop is your penchant for escalating an argument. Learning to bring calm, control and order to a situation is probably a good thing and vital to your future happiness.
Cathy said: ” my only concern with you being a cop is your penchant for escalating an argument.”
I say: “this is a very good observation.”
Some of the most successful individuals in life, whether in business, art, or just mere personal gratification, are successful because they were able to find something that they are passionate about. I am certain that many reasons or agendas have led people to join the NOPD, but if your reasons are true and you are passionate about them, then you will, undoubtably, be rewarded.
Unless, of course, you get burned out before you are satisfied with the results of your hard work. In which case, you should just finally give in already and accept Jesus Christ as your savior.
as ever
marc
WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS
I love to argue
BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD
I hate to fight.
I argue on the internet to strengthen my positions, not to piss people off. The reason it seems like I always piss people off is because I’ve argued so much my positions are extremely sound. People don’t like to see that they’re wrong. So much so, they attack me. When I’m attacked, I hit back, and do so with digital efficiency.
I want to be a cop because I love holding doors open for old ladies, protecting babies and solving puzzles.
Anyone who enters into an argument should beleive in whatever they are arguing. I can’t recall any “argument” that we have ever had, but if we have ever had one, I can tell you that I was right.
Before you ask me if “those are fighting words?,” I prefer to look at it as “chumming the water” in hopes that it might attract alittle action.
anchors aweigh
An argument are premises offered in support of a conclusion. Your beliefs have nothing to do with it, only facts, principles and logic do. If you can tell me your right, I’ll agree.
I don’t find much use in debating opinions. I have nothing against editorials, I just don’t see the point of expressing my opinion of them.
We can agree that ‘facts’ and ‘logic’ are essential variables to support a conclusion, but facts can be distorted to support a conclusion. Often, people will sift through imformation until they find the facts they are looking for, opposed to actually examining all the data and having to alter their original conclusion.
One must beleive that they have objectively exhausted the imformation available, that belief then becomes the catalyst to argue.
I enjoyed reading your editorial on editorials. I see your point and respect your opinion.
I don’t give a fuck what you think about my opinion.
What you claim is that no conclusions can be made until we reach the end of time. There’s valid reason to believe that to not be true. If you can present an argument that concludes that the laws of phisics are not constant and that universality is false, I will obviously change my mind.
Argue and argument are two different things. I have no quarrel with you brother, but I know we thinking humans can come to legitimate conclusions. Granted, there are things we assume as truisms, such as we are proof of our own existence. But, I can’t debate a person who isn’t sure they exist.
if you become join nopd…i’m moving. Such a recruitment surely confirms that our police department is flawed and our city is doomed.
Since you like to argue so much, why not become a lawyer? Or better yet, a prosecutor? You’ve surely got the brains for it and the streets would be safer.
As deciding to become a cop and actually becoming one carry a lot of unmarked and uncharted distance on the ‘path’ … what the hay… you might be a good one. Go arrest someone or something…(the last ex-cop I call a friend became a hermit after being fired for turning a firehose on jailed inmates after they threatened to plug the toilet. Water leaked down 7 floors onto the chief’s desk. He had been an Army medic and a paramedic before the cop thing).
@anonymous
This is an example of a two part pathetic argument.
Premise:
Robert is unfit to be a police officer
Therefor:
If he is accepted into NOPD,
NOPD is flawed.
Premise:
NOPD has one flawed officer
Therefor:
The city is doomed.
There are a few easy ways to support the first premise with facts. Am I mentally incapable? No. I score 130 on IQ tests. Am I pcycologically unfit? Highly improbable. I do not have the authority to make that judgment. I have been depressed on occasion in the past. But when I was I went to a doctor to seek help. Since every person goes through some amount of depression in their life, a person who seeks help reveals they are responsible. Have I been violent without being attacked in the past? No. Am I physically unfit? No. I am active in aerobics, resistant exorcise, don’t smoke and am at my ideal weight. Am I ethically unfit? Highly improbable. I have published thousands of words from the mundane to controversial issues that society hasn’t yet made judgment. Arguing from ignorance proves the argument weak and conclusion improbable. I need not prove the negative. The accuser has the burden of proof, of which they should easily be able, with the vast data base to search from.
M. Anon is using an ad homonym attack which is more evidence that they can’t argue properly. Not liking me is not a reason.
The second premise is logically proven false. It’s a fact we have had flawed officers on our force. The city is not doomed, not even a Cat5 can bring ultimate Doom to a city who refuses to die.
.
.
@Cathy
I’ve actually thought about being a lawyer. Though the pay would be a bit more liberating, I think I’d enjoy the job of an officer more. Since a police officer works for the people, not criminals or the falsely accused, I imagine the connection to the community is more substantial. I have no problem following orders. I imagine the joy of being an officer compared to being a line cook is that when I followed the executive chefs orders, it was because of his opinion. On the force, the Law supersedes any order I’m given, therefor my boss is actually a book, not a person. I’m good with books and my past executives have liked me. The truth is I have nothing to lose in trying, if I am unfit or don’t like it, I can always resign. It’s not like the slavery of the Army.
When I was 18 my father gave me 3 choices if he was going to contribute to my college education: Engineering, Pre Med or Accounting. As calculus and cutting up dead animals was not to my liking I chose accounting. Any way he steered my professional path by dangling the money for college over my head. I would have preferred to be a clinical psychologist or a meteorologist. I guess I could go back to school and pursue those paths now that I have my own money.
One thing that I have learned is that it is your life even though every one seems to have an opinion. I don’t think you were asking for anyone’s opinion in your post about whether you should be a cop or whether you would make a good cop. I think it was more about your mother’s reaction to your becoming a cop VS a soldier.
It is your life, do what you want to do as ultimately you answer only to yourself. What is that saying about opinions and ass (.)’s everyone has one? Well in this case what you think and what the Police Academy thinks are the only opinions that matter.
Observing 50% of the police officers on the streets in New Orleans who are out of shape and seem to have intimidation control issues mixed with a tad of racism, I personally would feel better having a moral cop with a brain on the streets.
Raspootin said: It is your life, do what you want to do as ultimately you answer only to yourself.
Mark Twain said: A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval.
I said: Well said.
Just wanted to say “Hello”
Good to see your site.
ROBERT SUTTON FOR SHERIFF OF JEFFERSON PARISH
(think big…)