RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Tuesday, August 2

J.J. Krupert Top 13 Countdown - June '11 #10: "Brown Sugar" by ZZ Top


Me and the big homey D went to a baseball game a few weeks back, but it rained like a motherfucker so we didn't do anything at the game except stand around thinking about what it would be like to watch a baseball game. We decided to roll to a bar where a friend of mines worked at, and play some dominoes. I don't drink anymore, but am comfortable as fuck with being a non-drinking, non-punk ass dude, not needing fake gods or 12-step self-help programs to limit my true potential, so though it might seem a strange environment, and I think tweaked the big homey D out a little bit at first, it made good sense, and for good times.
Anyways, after a few hours of this, we came home, and I dropped D off at his shop (one of the benefits of a non-drinking friends is having a dude who can actually drive without aiming for the middle just barely better than you would), and headed back to the compound, smelling like cigarette smoke and probably beer, even though I hadn't drunk a drop.
Passed a cop though, and my alignment ain't the greatest, so it pulls left, and the cop must've seen my beard and tattoos in the busted up truck under the street lights and figured I was a good catfish to reel in. Blue lights behind me, I pulled over about a half mile from Thomas Jefferson's crib up on the mountain, and realized I probably would be drunk driving this time of night normally most points in my life; but I was straight as an Eskimo spear. You'd think this would mean I'd answer the questions and be done in a timely manner, but I knew pre-emptively that all cops are dicks, so I figured I'd dick it up too, and reacted slowly to his questions, even hand rolling down my window (yeah, it's manual) all oddly just to give the illusion of drunkardliness. Sure enough, he asked me where I was coming from, so I sort of slowed my talking pace, though didn't slur, and said, "I just dropped a friend of mine off at his place. We had been at a place in Richmond hanging out for a few hours and all." So he of course asks me if I had been drinking, so I just look down the side of the door and say, "Well, my friend drank a bunch of beers, but I wasn't drinking," trying not to make eye contact because if he was a good judge of eyeballs, he'd know I was lying; but of course, he's also a cop so he probably figures I'm lying anyways, regardless of what I say. "Mr. Mack, can you step out the truck," and I look at him and am awkwardly unhappy, like I'm tired and want to go to bed, saying, "Why, officer?" And he repeats his demand, which makes me laugh inside because I know I ain't drunk. He has me do the one leg in front of the other thing, which I do really slow on purpose, and answer all his questions on purpose. He says, "Mr. Mack, I want to give you a breathalyzer test." And I say, "I don't really see the need, officer," but he persists, and explains by refusing to take it I am proclaiming my own guilt. At this point, just doing everything slow adds to the belief I'm lying on his end. So he puts the plastic tube on the device and puts it in my mouth, and I blow really slowly, trying not to register the device, because I've played this game on the actually drunk side before. It reads 0.00, and he says, "Mr. Mack, I need you to blow harder into the tube." "But I did, officer, and it said nothing." "Mr. Mack, you need to blow strongly into the tube for three to four seconds, or else it's considered refusing the test." I roll my eyes and make a dramatic scene about it, but then blow as hard as I can, and it comes up 0.00.
At this point, of course a second cop pulls up, so I switch into normal speed at this point. First cop is like, "He blew zeroes but he's showing signs of inebriation." And then all of a sudden I'm in normal talk mode with, "What signs of inebriation have I shown Officer X" - referring to him by name for the first time, which took him aback because I'm sure in his mind I couldn't even focus on a name tag. I look at the second officer and say, "Officer, I've cooperated fully with Officer X since he pulled me over ten minutes ago. I've completed his field tests and blown into his breathalyzer twice now, and I've tried to be a patient and conscientious citizen, because I know how hard the job of a police officer is. But as far as I can tell, I don't think I've given him any reason to further this situation." The first officer says, "If you are under the influence of narcotics, we can demand a blood test to find out."
I look at the second cop and say, "Sir, do you want to search my truck? I'm not exactly excited about letting you do so, but there's no sign of drugs anywhere in my truck, and I don't feel there's any reason to believe I'm on any type of drug." At this point, the second cop is sort of torn between his fraternal bullshit obligation to help his cop friend be a dick to any one they come across; but I can see he's wrestling with the fact that I've shown absolutely no signs of being fucked up whatsoever. The first cop is still holding to his threats, "We can have a K-9 car here in half an hour." So I throw back at him, calmly still though, because they'll use emotional outbursts at their demeaning tactics as an excuse to say you did wrong, "Sir, you can call your K-9 car if you want, and I will sit here on the side of the road with you for another hour, keeping me from getting home to my wife and family for another hour, until your dog can sniff around my truck and find nothing except an old cookie wrapper and empty water bottles. And I still won't be inebriated, and we'll have wasted a good chunk of both our nights."
At this point, I can see the second cop is not backing the first cop, just because there doesn't seem to be any reason, and they walk back to the second car, leaving the first car's incessant cop radio babble on between me and them, and they come back and the second cop says, "The reason he pulled you over was because of some slightly erratic driving coming through the light back there. We're going to let you go, but just be careful, okay?"
I know I've got them at this point, and have cracked their infallible cop tonton macoutes armor where the entire world is a lying ass criminal piece of shit, and now two cops questions one cop and probably one cop will be mad with two cop and I have divided them, at least partially, so I go, "Sir, I will be as careful as always. Good night. And you should watch over how your partner there treats regular people," and turned back to my truck. "Our apologies, Mr. Mack. He was only doing his job." And I resisted the urge to add, "Well he's not doing it very well," because even in a situation like this, I know it could easily get ugly with the type of ignorant bastard that becomes a cop, so I just got in, turned on my J.J. Krupert real fucking loud, and drove off. And this was the song that came on.
STEAL "Brown Sugar"
NEXT:
if you listen really closely, you can hear Charles Bronson playing a harmonica in the background!

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