I love how in Halifax, I am not worried about getting jumped by random people at night time when I walk around. I am actually terrified now, after several bad experiences, of being jumped by the HRM police after dark; or even during the day. So I spend a lot of time inside now. Thanks HRP, for making the city safe from criminals, non-criminals and everyone else who is in the gray zone. Now that I live in a small box, much like prison, I feel comfortable. Please do not ever come into my small box (as you have in the past) as it takes months to regain the sense of safety that comes with being isolated in a box. Maybe I should just do something to get sent to prison, at least there I will be in a gang that protects me from police and the jail guards will keep HRP away from me. —Fuck The Police
This article appears in Aug 28 – Sep 3, 2014.
It’s a very sad day when society has to fear the police more than thugs.
Halifax ‘Ferguson of the North’ as well as ‘Mississippi of the North’. Don’t think it’s quite that bad.
“Bullshit. It makes the grass grow green.
Horseshit. It does the same damned thing.
Bullshit, or is it Horseshit?
It grows grass
the greenest
you’ve seen”
*sing to tune of Col. Bogey March*
details OP. details.
when people post a bitch about someone cutting them off in traffic we get details to make a call. when people post a bitch about ladders whacking them in a food court, we get details.
this bitch is like someone posting ‘my teacher picks on me all the time’. well ok. give us reason to agree with you. or at least get some back pats and a ‘there there cookie’. are you a 70 year old pensioner with a walker and did the coppers jump you on north street walking home with your groceries? are you are 30 year camo-wearing, shaved head, tattooed air-gun collector who likes to play hide n seek in the trails?
and this member of society, klyde my bud, does NOT fear the police more than the thugs. I know damn well that it is only the police standing between the thugs and total mayhem.
Stop hanging out in front of Park Lane. Problem solved.
Having lives all these years I have never once been jumped by anyone, let alone the police, and not one time did a police officer ever come into my large box.
How sketchy are you?
“Stop hanging out in front of Park Lane” Ell-Oh-Fucking-Ell
http://img.izifunny.com/pics/20111101/640/…
A FREUDIAN & PHILOSOPHICAL INTERPRETATION
“Now that I live in a small box, much like a prison, I feel comfortable. Please do not ever come into my small box (as you have in the past) as it takes months to regain the sense of safety that comes from living isolated in a small box.” Fuck the police
Clearly the bitcher is in thrall to a classic Freudian condition, that involving a deep psychological need to return to the womb. One pictures him, knees drawn up under his chin, eyes nervously looking right and left in terrified anticipation of an intruder who might shatter his sense of safety and well-being. But whose womb is it and why does he long to return there? The questions are related.
The womb, of course, is his mother’s. He longs to be reunited with her in the most intimate fashion possible, within her womb. This, of course, is the classic Oedipus Complex, named after Oedipus who mistakenly slew his father and, also mistakenly, married his mother. That it was a mistake does not alter the fact that he violated perhaps the most fundamental taboo of all, that of incest. But he can’t help himself. He is uncontrollably sexually attracted to her. (It reminds me of someone, a childhood friend, who is now is a full partner in a leading Halifax law firm, who used to dress in his mother’s underwear. But my lips are sealed.) By blaming the police, of course, the the bitcher has simply engaged in the common practice of Freudian “displacement.” Anyway, so now we know whose womb it is. But why does he long to return there?
To answer that question we must leave Freudian psychology behind and engage philosophy since it is only by virtue of the latter rather than the former that any rational explanation might be attained. So what is the philosophical explanation? Simply put, it is a clear case of existential “angst.” (That’s German, by the way, for “anxiety.”) But what is this existential angst? Existential angst – the horror of being itself- arises from the “absurdity” of existence, to use Sartre’s terminology. Although he no doubt does not realize it, the bitcher is a perfect example of Sartre’s “serious man.”
The “serious man” – the one who Sartre claimed exemplified “being-in-itself” – looks for meaning in life but knows there is none. As a result he experiences Sartrean “nausea” (see Sartre’s “La Nausée”). The only egress is from the condition is to act, to act without reason but just to act – “un beau geste” – to transform being-in-itself” into “being-for itself” but the bitcher is unable to do this. He falls back, defeated., and assumes the fetal position in his mother’s womb. A sad story, but not an uncommon one.
Thank you for your patience and understanding.
A pleasure as always.
Cheerio!
I agree, FTP. Always looking at you like you’re pulling one over on them.
I went through a roadblock at 12:30am on a Friday night, 2 weeks ago on Hammonds plains rd. The cop asked me if I was drinking, to which I responded no. He shined his flashlight at my inspection sticker, then, proceeded to shine the flashlight through my back windows and trunk. That’s when I asked him what he thought he was doing. He replied “making sure everything looks legal”. I told him that he was overstepping his bounds by sniffing around for PC to search my vehicle. I told him that I had nothing to hide and that even if I was hiding something, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave it in plain sight in the back seat or hatchback. He gave me an indignant look and told me to move along.
This is why “random breath tests” are wrong, wrong, wrong! You give police an inch, they feel entitiled to their inch plus a mile.
I don’t trust the police.
OB must be a female since most cops mainly seem to assault their own wives/gfs. Or you were asked to leave a bar despite being legal age.
Since at that time service personnel were not encouraged to have professional lives outside the armed forces, British Army bandmaster F. J. Ricketts published “Colonel Bogey” and his other compositions under the pseudonym Kenneth Alford. Supposedly, the tune was inspired by a military man and golfer who whistled a characteristic two-note phrase (a descending minor third interval instead of shouting “Fore!”. It is this descending interval that begins each line of the melody. The name “Colonel Bogey” began in the later 19th century as the imaginary “standard opponent” of the Colonel Bogey scoring system, and by Edwardian times the Colonel had been adopted by the golfing world as the presiding spirit of the course. Edwardian golfers on both sides of the Atlantic often played matches against “Colonel Bogey”. Bogey is now a golfing term meaning “one over par”.
The sheet music was a million-seller, and the march was recorded many times. At the start of World War II, “Colonel Bogey” became part of British way of life when the tune was set to a popular song: “Hitler Has Only Got One Ball”, with the tune becoming an unofficial national anthem to rudeness. “Colonel Bogey” was used as a march-past by the 10th and 50th Battalions of the Canadian Expeditionary Force, the latter of which is perpetuated today by The King’s Own Calgary Regiment (RCAC) of the Canadian Forces who claim “Colonel Bogey” as their authorised march-past in quick time.
The Bridge on the River Kwai
English composer Malcolm Arnold added a counter-march, The River Kwai March for the 1957 dramatic film The Bridge on the River Kwai, set during World War II. The two marches were recorded together by Mitch Miller as “March from the River Kwai – Colonel Bogey”. Consequently, the “Colonel Bogey March” is often mis-credited as “River Kwai March”. While Arnold did use Colonel Bogey in his score for the film, it was only the first theme and a bit of the second theme of Colonel Bogey, whistled unaccompanied by the British prisoners several times as they marched into the prison camp. Since the film portrayed prisoners of war held under inhumane conditions by the Japanese, there was a diplomatic row in May 1980, when a military band played “Colonel Bogey” during a visit to Canada by Japanese prime minister Masayoshi Ōhira
Retrieved from wikipidia.
My grandfather told me the lyrics they sang as the CEF, mainly “bullshit…was all the band could play” i do like this reference as i am calling BULLSHIT on OB. GFY OB!!
Excellent, Cuja. As a counterpoint to the so-called “row” concerning the Japanese P.M.’s visit, in his superb book “Desperate Siege” about the Battle of Hong Kong, Ted Ferguson relates the following anecdote.
In 1970, 22 survivors of the battle wished to visit the Commonwealth War Graves cemetery in Yokohama, to honour those Canadian P.O.W.s murdered in Japan. Our heroic department of External Affairs decreed that they could, but they were not permitted to wear their Royal Canadian Legion uniforms, could not have a firing party, and if they wished to play “The Last Post”, the bugler had to carry his instrument to and from the Cemetery in a discreet bag. An Embassy official said:
“After all, gentlemen. We don’t want to risk offending Japanese sensibilities, now. Do we?”
For those who think that contempt for veterans is a product of the Harper government, think again.
I’m a veteran, and I own several shops!
RSVP
: Mary Bore (09/04, 8:27PM)
Are they massage parlours, Mary? Do you give discounts to the vets? Do you, um, lend a hand?
A pleasure as always.
Cheerio!