Cops Deserve Expensive Cologne

When the squad of motorcycle cops passed by my car while waiting at the light, I didn’t smell motorcycle exhaust at all. Instead, I smelled really bad cologne. Horrible cologne!

1st thought:  It’s amazing how far engine exhaust technology has come—I’m downwind of those bikes and all I smell is the human being. That is encouraging…

2nd thought:  You know, cops shouldn’t have to perform their job smelling so cheap. They should smell like those musky, wealthy businessmen on the morning commuter trains who can turn your nose gay.

It commands respect, when you smell expensive. It makes people want to be with you. How much easier would police work be if everyone not only respected the cops but actually wanted to be with them while on duty?

The same domestic disturbance is much more likely to be resolved smoothly if you show up smelling like a million Swiss francs than if you show up smelling like an air freshener.

Now obviously cops don’t make enough money to afford their own expensive cologne. We civilians must be the ones to provide it to them. The question is: public or private? There are problems with both.

Public funding of police redolence is not only expensive but governments are notoriously bad when it comes to issues of fashion and culture, and nasal aesthetics are almost as subject to fashion as visual aesthetics. Back in the 80’s, the East Germans tried to issue their commissars a socialist version of “expensive cologne” and look what happened. No one would even turn around, they smelled so bad.

On the other hand, private funding of fragrant law enforcement naturally leads to problems of corruption and influence peddling. Who’s going to bust the person who made you smell like royalty? You wanna go back to smelling like bathroom spray?

One way or the other, however, we must reform our police. We must make them smell better. Much better.

Reflections on the Supposedly Greatest Generation

My great-uncle was at the Battle of the Bulge.

Jackin’ off!

That’s how fuckin’ tough they were back then—you try it!

It ain’t easy to stay in the mood when those German 88’s open up. It’ll separate the men from the boys real quick. And that’s why we only draft boys, not men, if we can help it…

Yeah, the goddamned greatest generation—see, never judge a people by their music.

Or their movies… Or their slang… Or their TV…Or their bras… Or their violent over-reaction to long hair on men…

Of course, in subsequent years the Greatest Generation almost nuked the world to death several times but who’s to say we would have done any better—those radar blips can look damn threatening sometimes.

“When in doubt, nuke.” That’s what the manual said. So maybe they were pretty great to hold back and let us live out this farce.

Remember, farcical meaningless existence is not free. People died for your absurdity, while other people withheld pressing their world-annihilation button.

And your Greatest Generation ancestors paid good money to get you that Absurdity out in Levittown.

That was back when we even had good money. Now it’s all got coke residue and Ritalin dust on it.

But back then, joints used to be two-for-25¢ in Harlem and pilots took meth. Now that’s the greatest generation!

Can you imagine the economic boon to Harlem if joints were once again two-for-25¢?

And with meth, everyone’s a Sullenberger.

Shit, with meth, my great-uncle could have made that landing jacking off.

They were the greatest, no doubt. They fought fascism with freedom and then they fought the freedom of the sixties with fascism.

So they beat you up for having long hair—at least they cared how you look. Now no one gives a shit about you. Which is better?

Of course, every new paragraph in this piece means another member of that greatest generation has just croaked, so I’d better end it here before they’re all gone.