I saw three police cars, an ambulance (with lights), and a tow truck, (also with lights) on the way home tonight. And upon seeing each of these I was seized with debilitating pangs of guilt. Why? Fuck if I know. I just always feel like I must be doing something wrong. I mean it isn't like cops can pull you over for impure thoughts, right? (at least not yet). Then, at least, my fears would be justified.

In Grade school, every year a police man would come visit the school, and we would learn (each and ever year) how police were there for our protection, and how we should always feel safe talking to a police man, and how they were nice people. And they would run their lights and have us call them Officer Friendly. Even on Sesame street, the police would teach you the number after seven, the letter after q, and how to read the word "bicycle." And I can remember way back then, even in those formative years, the men in blue scared the shit out of me. I remember vividly wanting to unholster Senor Friendly's revolver and plug him with six rounds of slugs. The only cop I can ever remember liking is that bastian on law-enforcement, Heather Locklear as TJ Hookerette.

Maybe it's just a deep seeded, quasi-genetic fear of authority that I will have till the day I die. Or maybe I'll grow out of it with a little time and accrued wisdom. Or else maybe all cops are Napoleonic, Mirrored Glasses wearing pricks that deserve to be feared like the plague. Hard to say, really.

The only thing I know is that I will continue to break into a cold sweat at every colored strobe for at least the near future. And especially if they perfect that impure thoughts thingamajig.

Public Enemy Number One,