I don’t really have the drive, desire, or spoons available to write anything at night normally. I always just want to lie down and let my throbbing head throb in the cold and dark of my bedroom. However, a thought occurred to me tonight.

I was watching John Oliver, a episode he did a few weeks back about police reform, and it occurred to me that I used to live in Los Angeles, California. Now when I say I lived in Los Angeles, I don’t mean that I lived in the suburbs, we lived downtown for a couple of years.

I remember the LAPD driving around, handing all of us baseball cards. I’m assuming it was some community outreach thing, or maybe it was just a really nice cop that I just don’t happen to remember seeing constantly. What I do remember, is what was on the back of the baseball cards instead of the statistics that I loved, and still do love, to look at.

What I saw there, was a random police officer, it would give his likes, dislikes, a little like a basic interview format. Nothing important, nothing big.

Except, it kind of was.

Now I’ll be the first one to admit that I could be misremembering this entire thing, but when you are, as I was at the time, five to eight years old, you are highly susceptible to education and propaganda. Your brain is a motherfucking sponge that absorbs information more than life itself. It’s why you start school at that age, it’s why a lot of development happens all at once around that age.

So, I’m sitting here 35 years later realizing that they were handing us baseball cards with the baseball player that we all idolized on one side and an LAPD officer on the other. Now, call me a little jaded my old age, but I have a feeling that we were supposed to associate one with the other.

I may be talking out of my ass here, I understand that, I recognize that.

I remember my favorite baseball player when I was a kid was Eddie Murray. Eddie Murray played first base for the Dodgers and he was my fucking hero. We used to chant his name when we went up to Chavez Ravine to watch the Dodgers play live,and when he did anything, every kid in the goddamn stadium would go insane.

I’m not going to say that I remember the name of the police officer that was on the back of his card, but I remember it was a very tall white guy, and the reason I remember he was very tall, was because he was standing next to his police car, and the roof of it had to have hit him just about at the waist, again childhood embellishment notwithstanding.

So, were the children of the Los Angeles Police Department’s area of influence brainwashed to believe that the hero’s they saw in baseball players should be associated with those who protect and serve?

I am not smart enough to answer this question, I am just the old guy laying in bed with a migraine who had an idea and likes to write in a little blog.

Question everything Gentle Readers, nothing is for free, not even a baseball card.

Music, In A Way

I listen to music when I write. I have to or else it stays jumbled in the huge word ball it starts off as. Now, whereas certain things I want to write require certain kinds of music most of the time I listen to pretty much anything and, much to the chagrin of anyone near me, as loud as I can and on repeat. it helps things and I stopped questioning it years ago.

The last few days it has been Green Day, epic amounts of Green Day. In fact, now that I think about it, it has been pretty much punk music for weeks now. Misfits, Black Flag, all of the delights of anti-establishment that music has to offer. I can’t imagine as to why my mind would ever even casually drift to anarchy for the masses of course.

I have been emptying my brain of a lot of things in the last few days in case you hadn’t noticed. I probably won’t write at all tomorrow and Sunday will be an all or nothing kind of day to be sure. Summers are a really good time of year for me to clean the brain because I don’t have to get up as early and all of that.

I talk to people as I write, well, the reader that is. Gentle Reader was the words I used to use when I did this every single day and I would genuinely mean every single word I wrote, for good or for ill. so, I will start saying goodbye to all of you too, because saying goodbye is only polite, right?