Guest Blogger: Ne-yo meets the po-lice

Please welcome our guest blogger, Ne-yo, who has diligently recounted his own encounter with the law.

I was running late yesterday so I made a conscious effort to leave my house (a modest home in North Greece) - just in time to fight through the ridiculous/unnecessary construction leading into 490...because everyone drives with their head so far up their @$$ they can't see the other side.

Seriously, I've seen people leave the lane that they need to be in so they can get into the lane that is ending ONLY to try wedging their way 1 or 2 car lengths ahead of where they just were. In those instances, I speed up and ride the bumper of the person in front of me and hope that they realize my tailgating of them isn't due to their driving but due to my disdain for the retarded motorist who thinks they deserve rights.

But I digress.

I hadn't even made it to 531 - still travelling up Elmgrove road. I'm half asleep, just following the car in front of me at a nominal distance (not tailgating or trying to be a be a dick) when BAM effin' Greece police behind me. Lights on. Gives the siren that little BLOOP BLOOP to wake my @$$ up and I come crawling to a stop (since I was already moving at a sloth's pace anyways) thinking, "FML".

Roll down my window preemptively, and pondered if that would make him nervous. Then I realized that there's nothing threatening about my car being that it is bright yellow and I was listening to talk radio. Doesn't exactly scream "murder" especially in this town.

He goes through the typical ballet, and I play along (though it wasn't so much playing as it was an honest interaction. I still had no idea why he pulled ME over). He informs me that I was going 52 in a 40, and that his automated radar mcjiggy told him so. I say, "Oh, that's strange I didn't think I was speeding, I was simply going with the flow of traffic." Not my best effort. I'll show more skin next time.

I wondered if his hand was on the pistol at his hip (which in turn led me to think that if I were gonna waste his @$$ I'd be better off keeping the gun in my door storage area where he'd be less likely to be watching so I could shoot him through the side panel). I retrieved my registration slipped the license outta my new wallet (almost dropping the rubber - whoops) and he walked back to his squad car.

Basically: This cop is the dweeb. He hates his job. Couldn't cut it as a detective so he moved to traffic as he'd already wasted the best years of his life (if his existence deserves such a title) and he was just struggling to keep his job (as it is after all the last day of the month and cops have 'quotas' to meet). I think to myself how annoying all of this is, and wonder how much the town of Greece is going to try and extract out of me so they can use my money for anything BUT plowing the roads in the winter, or maintaining drivable asphalt on the main roads. He brings the ticket back, and explains the whole deal. I either plead guilty or not. I'm totally willing to fight it and go to court with a not guilty plea, on the off chance that dorky-McOssifer gets killed in the line of duty and is unable to attend the 'trial'. (In an alternate note, I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if he actually got laid or something, I'd even give him the condom from my wallet if it would help).

My point in all of this is: why bother wasting my time for something you can't actually arrest me for??? It might as well be Jaywalking at this point. It's clear that he had nothing better to do, and due to my infinite time he felt like ruining the start of my day, while simultaneously clinging to whatever miserable existence he has himself entrenched in and convincing himself that he'd done the right thing by pulling me over instead of, yanno, stopping a real crime.

Ah yes. The sweet sound of another 3 points on your license. A sound that I know very, very well. Except I have much more of a way with men in uniform.

Why do the po have to hate on us kids who are trying to make an honest living. Please - pull us over in our not shiny, not a Beema, probably leased cars. And on the way to work? Where we have to sit for 9 hours in a dimly lit office? Rude.

Ne-yo now needs to meet Sparky.