PO Potatoes- The thoughts and musings of a crime fighting Potato

  I'm going to preface this entire post with this: This is strictly my opinion, my observations, my experience, and my story.  You may not like it, and while I'd love nothing than to put this supervisor on blast by name, if you know me, you know who this person is because I've been vocal about this since it happened. The other reason is I've always felt that when the upper echelon of supervisors in a department DO NOT lead their people correctly, the toxicity that lack creates disseminates itself into the front line officers.  It is in that toxicity that trauma (job caused or otherwise) festers and comes out as the dark side of policing: addiction, alcohol/drug abuse, violence at home and work, risky behaviors, and far, far too often...suicide. One more point: I'm not writing this for accolades but to give a back story.      My police pedigree started in the 011th district, as for those of you who read this outside of the Chicago Police Department, think of the dist

I know what you are thinking... WHOA!  FULL STOP!  Did that cop say he would loot too?  Is he an anarchist?  A rabble rouser?  A criminal cop? I'm none of those, and nor would I loot. Now. Based on my life's circumstances and how my finances are in place I don't need to.  I can fully support my family, pay my bills, and have a few hobbies.  I can keep a roof over my head, food on the table, and clothes on everyone's back. Even as a kid growing up in a large family, my father worked and was our main source of income.  I got a paper route at a young age to start saving money with, and was able to buy myself toys and eventually a car when I was old enough.  My mother did some in home babysitting to shore up some more family finances, so I had plenty and was taken care of. But I still had the spaghetti dinners, the whatever-lunch-meat-on-sale sandwiches, we drove (very) old cars, I wore hand-me-downs from other families being the eldest in mine, my first bicycle was probabl

One of the narratives that is alive and strong today, more so in certain circles, is that the police are nothing more than a wing of the government that is meant to oppress, tax, and murder.  Usually along with that narrative is that modern policing sprout from slave catchers pre- and during the Civil War era in the US.  That frame of mind does nothing but put police on the same plane as the pro-slavery supporters, Nazis and bloodthirsty communists of the 20th century, and the sociopaths that police routinely put behind bars. More times than I care to count I have been on the scene of a shooting, usually a young man, more often than not black/African American, and normally known to us from arrests or not-so-positive interactions.  Usually they are in their gang's territory, or were followed.  In any case, there are usually young teenagers or young adults.  Many have been in and out of bad homes, or come from single parent house holds, or even just raised by grandma.  They foun

There are American flags with a blue line down the middle.  Or the flags of other nations modified to show the blue line. City flags with blue lines down the middle. T-shirts espousing that the blue line will be defended. Spartan helmets and the infamous Punisher skull with a blue line on them. When a cop is killed profile pictures change and a blue line runs across the photo. So what is the "Thin Blue Line"?  Is it a symbol of white supremacy and an alt-right movement?  A symbol of a code of silence where a cop can get away with everything under the sun and never have anything happen to them because no other cop will say anything? Or something more poetic.  Perhaps a recognition that police are the ones that figuratively, and at times literally, separate normal citizenry from the evil that lurks within their fellow man?  As the idea that George Orwell so plainly put forth: people sleep peacefully in their beds at night because rough men and women stand ready to do v