are you more afraid of a terrorist attack, or encountering a police officer?
yeah, think about that for a second
It's all very relative. We're still a million times better off than a lot of countries; I have family in Armenia I worry about constantly. At least I don't spend every day fearing that the Turks are going to come back and finish what they started.
I read this morning that they have decided to reexamine Dorner's case. He's said all he wants is to clear his name and the killing will stop. I wonder if maybe he was right?
But you can bet your ass that there's a screenplay of some sort being written as we speak.
Bring to mind an ancient SNL ... "Police State" Main memory is Akroyd and Chase gunning people down then saying "stop or I'll shoot."
Can't find a clip of it but here's a excerpt and transcript.
Aramis McCord: It's a code eleven-fourteen. Let's ... roll!
[With their weird cat-like move they exit. Dissolve to the filmed insert of a city street using the rapidly panning camera that blurs the image. Funky theme music. Dissolve to the aerial view of the model city. Sound effects of cars crashing, tires screeching, horns honking and general mayhem. More Matchbox vehicles are hurled into the model set cluttering it with a huge pile-up. Dissolve briefly to the blurred city streets and then to a small room in which a bearded man stands quietly with his arms raised, apparently having just hung a painting on the wall. The two cops burst in, guns drawn.]
Kevin Brut: Okay! Hold it right there!
[The cops immediately fire two shots and kill the man instantly. The cops stand over the dead body, keeping their guns pointed at it.]
Kevin Brut: Okay! Freeze! [to the corpse] You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney and to have that attorney present during questioning. [The cops holster their guns and immediately confer.]
Aramis McCord: How 'bout Italian? You always like Italian.
Kevin Brut: Give me a break. Yeah, I'm tryin' to lose a few pounds, you know. [to the corpse] Anything you say can and will be used against you in evidence.
Aramis McCord: Hey, how 'bout French?
Kevin Brut: You mean that little place over on Alameida with the colored umbrellas?
Aramis McCord: Hey, listen, old buddy, you can get a nice brook trout, a carafe of white wine, a small endive salad -- what do you say?
[A loud BEEPING noise. The cops don't even bother to look.]
Aramis McCord: It's a code six-oh-nine. Let's roll!
[They exit the room in an unnecessarily roundabout fashion by running along one wall, then to the door. Dissolve to the filmed insert of the blurred city street. Funky theme music and noisy sound effects. Dissolve to the aerial view of the model city. A giant hand pours lighter fluid on a now massive pile of crashed vehicles. Another hand sets the pile on fire. It burns nicely. The hands throw more vehicles into the inferno. Dissolve to an apartment house staircase where a black man runs down, gunshots ringing out. The two cops are right behind him, firing away. He falls down dead at the bottom of the stairs.]
Kevin Brut: Stop or I'll shoot!
[McCord fires an extra shot into the dead man just to make sure. The cops relax and holster their guns.]
Aramis McCord: Hey, champ. How would you feel about Mexican? You'd like to, uh, kill Mexican tonight?
Kevin Brut: Didn't we, uh, kill Mexican last night?
Aramis McCord: That wasn't Mexican. That was Filipino.
Kevin Brut: Six o' one, amigo, six o' one. [They both laugh.] Come on, let's go get a bite to eat.