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

Being a cop is stressful a lot of the time.  Chaotic calls, fast paced situations, use of force incidents, shooting scenes, large scale fights, people on drugs or in a state of excited delirium...the stress is just a part of doing business. Then there are the complaints, going to talk to IA or a civilian oversight body, getting pulled aside in the hallway or into the sergeants office for a little chit-chat, or going down to Corp Counsel/city attorneys to talk about the lawsuit and why someone is suing you. More than once I've seen the back side of this door Then there is the ever present risk of injury from hopping fences, crashes in a squad car, being struck when outside of a squad on a traffic stop, and use of force injuries.  Lets not forget that always waiting-in-the-wings chance of being seriously injured or killed by gunfire or a weapon.  Every cop knows what the potential outcome is for an incident, even the "routine" or "mundane" calls that we handle eve

  When my star was pinned on my chest during the ceremony at the academy I had a great sense of pride and relief.  Relief that the academy was over and I had made it, and pride because I had joined what I felt to be the greatest department this profession has to offer.  Every kid at some point wants to be a cop…along with a firefighter, astronaut, soldier, racecar driver, and so on.  I just wanted to be a cop more than most; my closest friend, also a cop, was the one who pinned my star on my chest and a huge reason I even joined the profession.  The idea to become a cop was solidified at the funeral for 1st Deputy John Thomas as then Superintendent Terry Hillard talked about his friend.  I could see the respect and admiration in how he spoke of his friend and colleague and I wanted to desperately be a part of that fraternal feeling. I knew the job would be hard, not just physically but mentally.  I filled my head with as much knowledge on the human reaction to stress, violence, opposit

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

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