Tuesday, January 5, 2010


There is a wanna-be-cop (WBC) who comes into the Starbucks most mornings where the Bad Lawyer and his posse gather to mull over the morning news, and flirt with the good looking women who commute downtown to their respective positions of responsibility in OurTown's residual corporate and judicial culture.

If I have already described this coffee venue, pardon moi,  I'm sure most of you have passed through a Starbucks or some local or similar coffee operation, maybe you do it as often as the Bad Lawyer, doubtful,  but this particular location has a special flavor for those of us who frequent it.  For one thing it is the pinch point in the northwest traffic funnel into downtown.  It is the last stop for a hot (or cold) caffeinated beverage before you pull into your lot at work.  The building is a converted gas station with a samll partially enclosed patio has a one way parking lot that at best can accomodate five or six cars simultaneously, with additional parking in back and along the side street;  but, during rush hour the parking is an amusing car crunch.  Parking directly effects the mood of the customers, some of whom are known to double park their cars blocking in those who came before and are parked in legitmate spots.  My friends that have aggregated there, are a pretty witty group of achievers and veteran social/cultural critics the parking follies (which we deliberately do not contribute to--by parking a short walk to the shop as our anonymous offering of good will to those in a hurry--plus, it means more women to ogle.)  As you can imagine, among the lovely female commuters, many friends, and former colleagues, politicians and the like pass through this coffee shop and engage our aggregation in debate, gossip, and worldly observations mostly about OurTown, OurState, and girls. 

We have taken notice of the wanna-be-cop (WBC).  I do not have a picture of this young guy, so the pic-above will have to serve.  And it is a good pic, because in this guy's mind, we imagine that this is what he thinks he looks like.  In fact he looks like a total douche.  Among the most pathetic side-effects of testosterone poisoning you encounter in the world, is the guy who "wants to be a cop," who for some reason, is not a cop.  WBC, is a security guard with a jar-head haircut, who dresses full-SWAT.  WBC is a security guard who packs heat, clubs, various insruments of torture, a bullet proof vest, and, yes, you guessed it--a taser.

Let us now praise, WBC, for he has not to my knowledge ever snarled at, harmed, been rude to, or insulted in any way any of the "barista"-class, or other customers of this Starbucks.  As far as I can tell, aside from dressing like a modern-day Don Quixote (who according to Cervantes, although he didn't use this expression--looked like a douche), WBC is harmless.  Maybe I will test his serenity, and ask him to pose for a picture--if suddenly, I'm disabled and unavailable to update for a few days you will know that it did not go well. 

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