Ok so they got eric frein. Murder is the ultimate sin. But why is cop killing any worse? A life is a life. Choose to be a soldier or a cop, assume the risks, expect that bad guys will oppose apprehension. With force. May tactics and firepower be on your side. I know the whole LEO brotherhood thing, but a life is a life. Some jobs look for trouble and find it. Would you shed tears for a bountyhunter or repo man who gets his ass kicked? Cops use deadly force more readily than citizens can. That's the perk, ok? You Get to tase fat ladies. Just sayin. Play the game, pay the price. Let's face it, becoming a CPA probably won't make you a prime enemy of felons. I ride motorcycles. If a driver kills me I want him to suffer worse consequences than if the casualty was in a car. My point is, for he who assumes the way of the warrior, don't whine for the "innocent" who chooses to live and risk a life in harms way. WW1 British pilots who knew they were outgunned by German Fokkers took to the skies anyway, even facing likely death. No whining, only brave service of their great nation and the allied free world. The thug lifestyle exists on both sides of the law. By my age I've met some noble cops and scores of evil ones. Just like other people. It's tragic when a tightrope walker falls, but the risk fuels the reward. No disrespect to fallen LEO & families. nor to murdered citizens & theirs. We all bleed red, whether you wear blue or grey flannel or Carharts.

It Happened to Me

So my ex-girlfriend, the sexiest thing I saw, left me on my birthday last year. She met someone that very night. It was the waiter who served my birthday dinner.  He slipped his card to her and the rest, as they say, is history.

I took things hard, I really loved the girl, and the year has been hell. I punished myself with poor diet, partying alone, and neglecting work, the latter resulting in the loss of my profession.  I was disbarred as a lawyer, because of an oversight that I made, so blunt was my attention.

So one day shy of a year, or a day before my next birthday, I started a job. I hadn’t had a job in years, having been a self employed attorney.  And here I was, working at retail, in of all places, a mattress store.

As the store manager began giving me  basics on mattress sales, his voice started to blur out, the way Charlie Brown hears grownups.  My mind wandered to my old girlfriend’s bed, a California King that I had spent so many nights in.  Under the bed sheets were a myriad of stains from unexpected menstrual periods, passions and who knows what.  I chuckled at the thought that at least her new boyfriend was sleeping on top of my secretions.  I know, eccch, but it gave me wicked satisfaction.

“Here’s your first live customer,” the manager suddenly boomed.  I snapped out of my trance, to see a couple walking in the store.  It was none other than my ex girlfriend and the waiter.
I quickly scurried into the back room.  Hot on my heels, the manager was laughing and in hot pursuit behind me.  “Don’t be nervous, your first sale is here.”  I looked in his eyes, and told the manager, “I really don’t think so.”

Ok, so I walked back into the showroom, and Candi was as surprised to see me as I was her.  “Hello ma’am, looking for a mattress today?”  Taking my anonymous cue, she responded, “Yes, something firm for us.”
With that she snuggled next to the new guy and they chuckled.  “We need something that can take a beating,” he added.

Next thing you know, the two are trying out different mattresses, mock sleeping next to each other, and at one point (wretch) mock lovemaking and laughing hysterically. I swore I caught Candi eyeballing me as he grabbed her butt.

I’d had enough, and I did what any self respecting man would do.  I sold them the extra firm Simmons BeautyRest, at three times markup.