Jill waved down one of our guys the other day, and told him that she has broken it off with Jack and that he's out of the house. Sounds like a pre-emptive alibi to me. I'm going to warm up a booking sheet for him.
Everyone have a safe and happy New Year, and I'll see you on the other side.
While you're here, why not pop over to Shakti's and make a donation for the tsunami victims?
Ofc. Krupke at 9:28 PM
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20 December 2004
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20 December 2004
Via James Taranto, who dubs it a "PC Perfect Storm", a story from U of Oregon's Oregon Daily Emerald that resolutely defies parody and provides more evidence, if such were needed, that collegiate identity-politickers have, collectively, lost their damn minds.
The story reports that last year's production of Eve Ensler's "The Vagina Monologues" by the ASUO Women's Center was beset by controversy, as it was thought that the "production underrepresented various communities of women." In order to address these concerns, the show's producers have decided to change the casting process because, in the immortal, unsatirizable words of spokeswoman Stefanie Loh, "The fact that they had auditions means that some people are automatically excluded."
Instead of holding auditions, the producers will solicit nominations from several student groups, as well as the Women's and Gender Studies Program, to assemble a potential cast. The final casting decision will be made by a volunteer selection committee.
Because, of course, there's no problem with college theater productions that additional cliquishness will not solve.
This story has to be read to be believed. It has it all: a vocal Coalition of the Aggrieved, duct-tape protests, and wonderful, though unintentional, jewels of low comedy:
It will be more difficult to ensure that women who identify with the queer community participate in the production.
"That's where it gets kind of tricky," Pete said. "I don't think we can legally ask anyone what their sexual orientation is."
Instead, the producers will inform a potential actor that a particular part is a "queer role" and ask, "Do you feel that this represents you?"
The moral of the story is a simple one: it doesn't matter how ideologically pure you think you are (one somehow doubts the ASUO is a hotbed of right-wing activity), they will find something, and you will end up in the hot seat, like a war criminal or a Republican. This is one of the cool things about being a conservative: you are not obligated to worry about offending these people; they already come pre-offended.
The story reports that last year's production of Eve Ensler's "The Vagina Monologues" by the ASUO Women's Center was beset by controversy, as it was thought that the "production underrepresented various communities of women." In order to address these concerns, the show's producers have decided to change the casting process because, in the immortal, unsatirizable words of spokeswoman Stefanie Loh, "The fact that they had auditions means that some people are automatically excluded."
Instead of holding auditions, the producers will solicit nominations from several student groups, as well as the Women's and Gender Studies Program, to assemble a potential cast. The final casting decision will be made by a volunteer selection committee.
Because, of course, there's no problem with college theater productions that additional cliquishness will not solve.
This story has to be read to be believed. It has it all: a vocal Coalition of the Aggrieved, duct-tape protests, and wonderful, though unintentional, jewels of low comedy:
It will be more difficult to ensure that women who identify with the queer community participate in the production.
"That's where it gets kind of tricky," Pete said. "I don't think we can legally ask anyone what their sexual orientation is."
Instead, the producers will inform a potential actor that a particular part is a "queer role" and ask, "Do you feel that this represents you?"
The moral of the story is a simple one: it doesn't matter how ideologically pure you think you are (one somehow doubts the ASUO is a hotbed of right-wing activity), they will find something, and you will end up in the hot seat, like a war criminal or a Republican. This is one of the cool things about being a conservative: you are not obligated to worry about offending these people; they already come pre-offended.
Ofc. Krupke at 11:35 AM
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16 December 2004
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16 December 2004
This morning I attended the SCPD's quarterly Accident Review Board, the panel that evaluates cases of officers wrecking cars, losing equipment, and generally screwing up on the taxpayers' dime. It's mostly car wrecks (whether the officer was at fault or not), but there's always someone who's lost a pager or something. There seems to be a hierarchy of MIA equipment: when I lost my nightstick in a foot pursuit last year I didn't have to go, but people who lose flashlights do. It's said in law enforcement that there are two kinds of officers: those who have wrecked cruisers, and those who are liars. This is my third appearance before the board.
This case was from three months ago. I was doing a residence check while the owners were on vacation, and while executing a three-point turn at the top of the driveway, my front tire rolled off the driveway and crushed one of those little lights people line their driveways with so they can find their way home when they're drunk. If you're a civilian, you handle this one of two ways: you slip a little note of apology with your name and contact info in the mail slot, or you just leave and generally get away with it. When you're a public cop driving a public cop car, it's a different matter. The Traffic Unit has to be called. Your supervisor is notified. Crime Scene comes out and takes pictures. You fill out a statement filled with arcane legal terminology like "stupid little fucking driveway light which wasn't even working at the time, damn it". And your name goes on the review board list.
They don't call anyone in any kind of order. You just stand there in the station hallway outside the conference room like a Rogue's Gallery of Irresponsible Civil Servants. It's a very egalitarian group: there are beat cops and lieutenants, Crime Scene guys, detectives, and people from Animal Control. Today there was a guy from the Horse Patrol who had somehow wrecked a caisson, which made me feel better anyway.
It was my turn after about half an hour. I went in and sat down, and the board, made up of a Lieutenant and about four NCOs, asked me to describe what happened. When I was done (I found myself wishing it had been a garden gnome, because it would make a better story), they just stared at me.
"Was there any damage to your car?" one of them asked, puzzled. I said no.
"Why did you even report it?" another asked, only half-jokingly. "That's when you knock on the door," a sergeant chimed in, "and say, 'Here's fifty bucks'." I allowed as to how I would have done that, but the guy was on vacation and the house was empty. They asked if the owner had complained, and I told them that the house belonged to a retired SCPD officer. When I gave his name, there were eyes rolling and sighs of knowing irritation around the table.
"Oh, that guy," the sergeant said again. "You should have run over every light he had."
"Yeah, good job," another remarked.
They thanked me for my honesty and dismissed me. As I walked out, the lieuntenant in charge was stifling a laugh and telling the sergeant he was a terrible influence on young officers. I'll get a letter at some point letting me know their decision and how much it will cost me. Or I might not - I'm still waiting to hear what they said about my first accident.
Anyway, if I had to run over someone's driveway light, I guess I picked the right guy. I knew Sgt. Rudy hated him, but Sgt. Rudy hates a lot of people, so that's not always the best yardstick.
This case was from three months ago. I was doing a residence check while the owners were on vacation, and while executing a three-point turn at the top of the driveway, my front tire rolled off the driveway and crushed one of those little lights people line their driveways with so they can find their way home when they're drunk. If you're a civilian, you handle this one of two ways: you slip a little note of apology with your name and contact info in the mail slot, or you just leave and generally get away with it. When you're a public cop driving a public cop car, it's a different matter. The Traffic Unit has to be called. Your supervisor is notified. Crime Scene comes out and takes pictures. You fill out a statement filled with arcane legal terminology like "stupid little fucking driveway light which wasn't even working at the time, damn it". And your name goes on the review board list.
They don't call anyone in any kind of order. You just stand there in the station hallway outside the conference room like a Rogue's Gallery of Irresponsible Civil Servants. It's a very egalitarian group: there are beat cops and lieutenants, Crime Scene guys, detectives, and people from Animal Control. Today there was a guy from the Horse Patrol who had somehow wrecked a caisson, which made me feel better anyway.
It was my turn after about half an hour. I went in and sat down, and the board, made up of a Lieutenant and about four NCOs, asked me to describe what happened. When I was done (I found myself wishing it had been a garden gnome, because it would make a better story), they just stared at me.
"Was there any damage to your car?" one of them asked, puzzled. I said no.
"Why did you even report it?" another asked, only half-jokingly. "That's when you knock on the door," a sergeant chimed in, "and say, 'Here's fifty bucks'." I allowed as to how I would have done that, but the guy was on vacation and the house was empty. They asked if the owner had complained, and I told them that the house belonged to a retired SCPD officer. When I gave his name, there were eyes rolling and sighs of knowing irritation around the table.
"Oh, that guy," the sergeant said again. "You should have run over every light he had."
"Yeah, good job," another remarked.
They thanked me for my honesty and dismissed me. As I walked out, the lieuntenant in charge was stifling a laugh and telling the sergeant he was a terrible influence on young officers. I'll get a letter at some point letting me know their decision and how much it will cost me. Or I might not - I'm still waiting to hear what they said about my first accident.
Anyway, if I had to run over someone's driveway light, I guess I picked the right guy. I knew Sgt. Rudy hated him, but Sgt. Rudy hates a lot of people, so that's not always the best yardstick.
