Fuck the Police

[A better World]

my stories dont compare to some of these stories but ive been searched illegally detained illegally and arrested due to illegal searches the pigs in my town used to be pretty tame because they never dealt with kids like us but now there getting worse it used to be "please dont ride those rollerboards here the manger doesnt like it" now its" what do you think you kids are doing? get in the back of the fucking car if i tell you to jump then you jump do you have written permision to skateboard here i dont think so ur going to jail if you ever ride those things in this town again" that was a fairly direct quote from the last time i got copped out for skating they think they can stop us haha FUCK WALDWICK POLICE DEPARTMENT

 

[Sloth]

So i was sitting on a concrete bench with a few friends in Vancouver at the art gallery, infamous for pot smoking, selling and political protests including 420. I just rolled a drum smoke when the popo park on up on the curb, you know above traffic laws and all that. There came up three of them questioning me about whether I had rolled the mirijuana reefer. I read his badge, (let's say it said) 2422 as he leaned over to sniff three of our cigarettes'. I recognized him immediately along with his buddies from not only last week when they stole my flat right out of my backpack. No sir, it's just tobacco I said as I opened the pack of drum to show him. My hash was burried deep in the pack. His eyes dulled with disappointment as he peered into the pouch. His two henchmen questioned the others. A younger friend of mine held a tall can in her right hand, pulling on the lip between defiant grins. Ofcourse 2422's attention shifted towards her nonchalant attitude. The piggies moved in for the munch down. He called her by name as the other cops silently stoop proud. One stuck his nose in the air and looked to the birds he would be so lucky to have shit on his face as the other watched us intently. I couldn't hear them over the the Robson street traffic they had nearly shut down to hassle us trouble makers. But nothing stops the bustle of tourists and yuppies in peak shopping ours. Well that's not entirely true. Some briefly stopped to cast a judging glance upon us lowlife vagrants, there chins down just long enough to see the trouble. Whatever they spoke of began to upset her and her dog very much, so much so that her sleeping buddy stepped in. Out came my pen, and upon my arm I wrote their badge numbers. Concerned looks cast from the henchmen as there lips repeated to there leader, "He's writing down our badge numbers, he's writing down our badge numbers." Some hushed words were pass between the pig on the left who hadn't been interested in the situation at all only moments earlier and 2422. Over they came. He pointed out the litter between my feet and asked for my name and birthday. Threatening to write me a ticket I retorted that he should find the bandaid I must have applied to leave it's wrapper on the ground. They could tell I was nervous. I gave them my name after he threatened to arrest me for not cooperating. I suspected his bluff but was afraid to resist. I knew what they do to homeless kids. So I gave him my name and the questions began. Cooperation is their key into interogation. Fuck, I thought as he slid his way asking the same question in more than one way so that I became confused and contradicted myself. He had me. He tricked me into lying about frivolous details. Had I talked to cops before? Was I anti-police? Oh and then the big question came, "Are you an Anarchist?" The words echoed around us. Yes, I thought, you fucking bastard piece of shit. No, I said looking straight into his eyes. "You know," he said "I don't care if you report me, I really don't. Why would you want to report me and my colleages? We haven't done anything illegal. We are the law. I don't care if you report me," he repeated. "You know why" I said as I recalled the squealer with his nose in the air throwing a friend of mine down a set of stairs just on the other side of the building. Check it out on film at homelessnation.org. "I wasn't listening," was his reply, then he continued, "Maybe we should seperate them and interogate them." This is the jerk that lives to beat on his arrests I thought. 2422's sad story unfolded as he acted out this elaborate play of how hard it is for him and how he makes $100,000 to fight crackheads and methheads and dealers, to take a way knives that want to stab us, to protect yuppies and there children from reality. Smoke weed all you want he told us, just not here. A friend asked him why they were wasting their precious crackhead fighting time talking to us as a radio call came over. 8 shooters on one cop 3 minutes away. Fair fight they say to each other. He tries to leave but he notices my best friend sitting next me quietly. "What's your name?" he sleazily asks. Bastard, I love that girl, show some respect I think with a pit in my stomach. She tells him her name. And then he gives us the gold. "Today I got to see that you actually a person and not just an asshole," I said sweatly using his name. "What is that supposed to mean?" he exasturbated. But before I replied his buddies started towards the car. "I'll remember you," saying my name as he retreated, defeated. Funny he didn't remember me from last week. "I remember all the people I talk to." As he drove off the tension lifted with an immense sigh. And my friend still held her beer with a grin on her face. And I with three numbers on my arm.

 

[Sloth]

So i was sitting on a concrete bench with a few friends in Vancouver at the art gallery, infamous for pot smoking, selling and political protests including 420. I just rolled a drum smoke when the popo park on up on the curb, you know above traffic laws and all that. There came up three of them questioning me about whether I had rolled the mirijuana reefer. I read his badge, (let's say it said) 2422 as he leaned over to sniff three of our cigarettes'. I recognized him immediately along with his buddies from not only last week when they stole my flat right out of my backpack. No sir, it's just tobacco I said as I opened the pack of drum to show him. My hash was burried deep in the pack. His eyes dulled with disappointment as he peered into the pouch. His two henchmen questioned the others. A younger friend of mine held a tall can in her right hand, pulling on the lip between defiant grins. Ofcourse 2422's attention shifted towards her nonchalant attitude. The piggies moved in for the munch down. He called her by name as the other cops silently stoop proud. One stuck his nose in the air and looked to the birds he would be so lucky to have shit on his face as the other watched us intently. I couldn't hear them over the the Robson street traffic they had nearly shut down to hassle us trouble makers. But nothing stops the bustle of tourists and yuppies in peak shopping ours. Well that's not entirely true. Some briefly stopped to cast a judging glance upon us lowlife vagrants, there chins down just long enough to see the trouble. Whatever they spoke of began to upset her and her dog very much, so much so that her sleeping buddy stepped in. Out came my pen, and upon my arm I wrote their badge numbers. Concerned looks cast from the henchmen as there lips repeated to there leader, "He's writing down our badge numbers, he's writing down our badge numbers." Some hushed words were pass between the pig on the left who hadn't been interested in the situation at all only moments earlier and 2422. Over they came. He pointed out the litter between my feet and asked for my name and birthday. Threatening to write me a ticket I retorted that he should find the bandaid I must have applied to leave it's wrapper on the ground. They could tell I was nervous. I gave them my name after he threatened to arrest me for not cooperating. I suspected his bluff but was afraid to resist. I knew what they do to homeless kids. So I gave him my name and the questions began. Cooperation is their key into interogation. Fuck, I thought as he slid his way asking the same question in more than one way so that I became confused and contradicted myself. He had me. He tricked me into lying about frivolous details. Had I talked to cops before? Was I anti-police? Oh and then the big question came, "Are you an Anarchist?" The words echoed around us. Yes, I thought, you fucking bastard piece of shit. No, I said looking straight into his eyes. "You know," he said "I don't care if you report me, I really don't. Why would you want to report me and my colleages? We haven't done anything illegal. We are the law. I don't care if you report me," he repeated. "You know why" I said as I recalled the squealer with his nose in the air throwing a friend of mine down a set of stairs just on the other side of the building. Check it out on film at homelessnation.org. "I wasn't listening," was his reply, then he continued, "Maybe we should seperate them and interogate them." This is the jerk that lives to beat on his arrests I thought. 2422's sad story unfolded as he acted out this elaborate play of how hard it is for him and how he makes $100,000 to fight crackheads and methheads and dealers, to take a way knives that want to stab us, to protect yuppies and there children from reality. Smoke weed all you want he told us, just not here. A friend asked him why they were wasting their precious crackhead fighting time talking to us as a radio call came over. 8 shooters on one cop 3 minutes away. Fair fight they say to each other. He tries to leave but he notices my best friend sitting next me quietly. "What's your name?" he sleazily asks. Bastard, I love that girl, show some respect I think with a pit in my stomach. She tells him her name. And then he gives us the gold. "Today I got to see that you actually a person and not just an asshole," I said sweatly using his name. "What is that supposed to mean?" he exasturbated. But before I replied his buddies started towards the car. "I'll remember you," saying my name as he retreated, defeated. Funny he didn't remember me from last week. "I remember all the people I talk to." As he drove off the tension lifted with an immense sigh. And my friend still held her beer with a grin on her face. And I with three numbers on my arm.

 

[smegmabreath]

Sloth, have you seen that kids show on PBS "The World Tree"

 

[Sloth]

no, what's that?

 

[Zude]

When I was younger, My brother and I were at a show down town. We were outside sitting on the curb to cool off and chat to people. A cop came out of no where, lifted my brother up by the collar for no reason and told him to get off his side walk. It left bruises and we called the police the next day. We called the police the next day and were told we were lucky we were not arrested by those on the phone. Before that, I believed all police are good and if you are not doing anything wrong, don't need to worry about getting arrested. My attitude took a reversal after that and since then, even if it is a murder investigation, I refuse to help the police. They are worse then the real crimminals and deserve none of my respect or help.

Post edited by: Zude, at: 2007/07/11 13:49

 

[Wind]

one time i was getting arrested for shoplifting (fuckers waited almost a month to go out and arrest me and they put me in handcuffs while i was sitting on my couch).
i was super mad so in the back of the cop car i was singing "crack rock steady" by choking victim pretty loud...
thats the closest ive ever gotten to bashing the fash.

 

[skunkpit]

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_1d--yrujU"]YouTube - NWA Muppets with Attitude[/ame]

 

[skiptown]

i believe in some form of karma in life...
they'll get whats comin to em..
they're "perfect" suburban little homes will be raped by the ravages of societies excrement.. bleeding into the hearts and souls of their children to become meth heads, heroin junkies, prostitutes and the like
then the cops will think.. "maybe i needed to feed them more hydrogenated peanut butter?"



yeah im high on paprika and cayenne pepper...

I'm going to go ahead and disagree with you on the point that prostitutes are "society's excrement." I'm guessing you've never met any sex workers before?

 

[skunkpit]

i never said it was a good or bad thing the direction they're children might take...

 

[Tailz]

all ive done is slash cruisers tires, yeah i know... kindergarten shit... but it was funny as hell.

 

[streetrat]

i have this lil' DIY pamphlet that instructs how to make bombs, theres one that you put into the gas tank of a car and... well the car explodes.
i was thinking about blowing up some cop cars, but im not sure how good of an idea that really is...

and now that my idea is out in interspace its probably even worse of an idea.
fuckin cops can track everything these days
x_x

 

[Tailz]

yeah, if you get the cat litter with crystals in it... it is supposed to act well with gasoline.

 

[skunkpit]

and now that my idea is out in interspace its probably even worse of an idea.
fuckin cops can track everything these days
x_x

no shit quote unquote

 

[vince]

Heres the most recent thats worth talking about...
http://la.indymedia.org/
very last entry on the page or 1st on the 2nd page tiled "Police Raid Downtown Art Space"

my band was supposed to play with the DJ of Public Enemy (hiphop from NY called Ex-Vandals) haha before the show even started 16 squad cars, bikes and helicopters over an alleged "stolen beer" this "beer" was so incredible appearantly that the Metro Police sgt. decided to come thru, arrested the homies at gunpoint, 6 arrests total over 1 "stole beer" that still to this day is shrouded in mystery. anyways lined us up, tryed to arrest me for a sewing needle because they "thought" it was for doing dope (wtf???) (they were being tough on everyone like that) arrested the homie for the stolen beer which he didnt steal seeing as how he didnt leave the space. its "speculated" (speculated meaning we know this is why) that they showed up is because we had a few organizations there R.A.C., B.R.L.P., F.N.B., A.P.O.C. and CopWatch L.A. were present, there were a select few people there that are notorious activists in L.A., and they were the ones who got arrested and then the homie eddy who allegedly stole a beer. anyways, the new IWW LA bike messenger union and LA FNB was welcomed dearly by the good ol' LAPD.

 

[veggieguy12]

...If you run on foot you won't get anymore charges added on. They always say they will but they don't...

I don't think there's any definitive guarantees about this stuff, so probably best not to think of it as such an absolute truth.
I mean, I'm no authority about the law - but neither are you, and that's my point.

 

[Dmac]

all ive done is slash cruisers tires, yeah i know... kindergarten shit... but it was funny as hell.

i perfer to use an icepick through the sidewall of their tires. one, they can/t plug the holes and two, it can take time to go flat, so they don't know exactly where it happened at! plus the tires go down slow, untill they start driving, then they go fast!

oh, just FYI instead of slashing tires, which caries a hefty fine and charge if cought, cuz good tires are pretty expensive, just use the knife and cut the air stems off! the air stems are only 2 bucks apiece, and the end result is the same! it's easier on your knife too.:goat:

 

[Dmac]

i have this lil' DIY pamphlet that instructs how to make bombs, theres one that you put into the gas tank of a car and... well the car explodes.
i was thinking about blowing up some cop cars, but im not sure how good of an idea that really is...

and now that my idea is out in interspace its probably even worse of an idea.
fuckin cops can track everything these days
x_x

crystal drano and gasoline, the trick is to put the drano in something ya can get into the tank, that the gas will eat through slowley, so you can get well away.

also powdered detergent, like tide, will have a gelling effect on gas, you can make a type of napalm with it. a great way to make a truley good molitav coacktail, by the way. a couple of packets of metimucil fibre suplements will f-up a cop car too. then there is the oldest standby, sugar in the tank. FUCK COPS!

 

[veggieguy12]

Don't modern fuel lines use some kind of filter, to prevent particles of sugar going to the spark plug and cylinders?
And if that's true, then would powdered-sugar or corn syrup get by any filter?

 

[dirty_rotten_squatter]

I was taking pictures in a abondoned building cuz it was covered in tagging, and when I got out the cops saw me walking around the corner from there and stopped me. I have larger eyes than most people, but not abnormally large and so because of that they accused me of being on crack so they looked at my hands and my mouth searched me and my pack and took my pulse. I had a pretty expensive watch on from when I used to work and they asked me where I "stole" it from. after they tried to push me over the edge and realized that I wasnt going to lose my cool they left but as they were backing up they backd into this yellow pole that was in the alley and left a huge dent and I started laughing and walked off haha good times fuckin fresno cops.