I_I
Cops ‘cuff public with tyranny
Perhaps it s against my tradi
tionalist instincts, and I apologize if
I offend anyone, but sometimes
cops in Lincoln really suck.
The Renteria case should really
be no surprise. A bunch of cops
who think they're right nab a guy
who knows he’s right. The unfortu
nate victim resists — as any man
with an ounce of pride would when
unjustly accused — and is beaten.
This certainly doesn’t apply to
all officers of the law, but there’s a
nice big chunk of them out there
with some sort of “me-have-big
gun, me-real-bad-ass” attitude
when dealing with the general
public.
I’ll offer an example from my
own life:
It s a cold wintery night as a
small group of friends and I leave
the Lincoln bar scene to hit an
after-hours party on the east side of
town. My general lack of poor
judgment is heightened by several
pitchers consumed during the
evening, and I sneak a three
quarters consumed bottle of Coors
Light out of the establishment.
Well, not only am I stupid, but
I'm also very slow and reach the
car after my friends arc already
inside. Our designated driver —
we'll call him Jay to protect his
identity — has the heater cranked,
and everyone looks very cozy,
patiently waiting for their friend to
catch up.
I reach down to the door handle
only to find that a friend of mine
has locked it — we’ll call him our
esteemed ASUN President Andrew
Loudon, to protect his anonymity.
“Sorry Tucker, it's locked."
Loudon smirks. “Looks like you're
too slow.”
At this point. Jay decides it's
time to take ofT and leave his drunk
friend with a now empty beer bottle
in hand in the middle of P Street.
Being evcr-rational, I decide to
swan dive onto the hood of Jay's •*
car. Undaunted by my courage. Jay
continues to drive, spilling my
fragile body onto the asphalt and
propelling the beer bottle under a
7his certainly doesn 7 apply to all
officers of the law, hut there's a
nice big chunk of them out there
with some sort of “me-have-big
gun, md-real-bad-ass ” attitude
when dealing with the general
public. ~
nearby car. I raise my battered body
from the street to chase afler Jay's
car. waiting for me half a block
away.
“You belter stop right there son,
‘less you wanna run all the way to
jail,” says Officer Hemorrhoid from
behind me.
I turn from Jay’s quickly
departing Bonneville and walk back
towards the man in blue, pondering
whether it's better to come clean
with the cop or fabricate sonic
outlandish talc that will get me out
of this situation.
“Let's sec some ID.”
Whoops, now there's another
problem. I’m a minor, the only ID I
have says I’m someone else,
someone much taller, much
broader, much better looking, and
most importantly, much older than
myself. I decide a little white lie
never hurt anyone.
“I don’t have any ID officer,” 1
say, but then willingly tell him my
name, address, and age. I whip out
my wallet to prove this to him and
clumsily drop my fake onto the
ground with a few other cards and
papers, kicking the ID under his
car.
Now I'm sure Officer Spank is a
very fine policeman, but lie's not
very bright, and the flurry of papers
confuse him. Unconcerned with the
mess on the ground, he grabs my
wallet and rifles through it. Finding
nothing, he throws inc against the
hood ofK!s carlo searcli thrbligh
my pockets. Sensing deception, he
becomes frustrated and decides to
handcuff me. He throws me into the
back seat of his fine automobile,
and we drive off.
' By this point, I’m beginning to
wonder why he found it necessary
to handcuff my buck-thirty frame,
why I’m now in the back of his car,
and where exactly he’s taking me.
The cop informs me I’m being
charged with littering and minor in
possession. MIP because I had an
empty bottle, littering because I got
rid of it. 1 find this intuitive leap
interesting, since the officer
rounded the comer after 1 was
already on the ground, the bottle
already out of my possession. His
philosophy, however, is that
intuition is nine-tenths of the law.
so he drops me off at Cornhusker
Detox and writes out a couple of
tickets.
That I got the tickets is really
not a big deal; I did the crime, I get
what I deserve. However, the
officer’s methods were concerning.
His overbearing, overzealous
altitude coupled with a strong
reliance on intuition over fact are a
nice recipe for a cop who would
beat the crap out of some innocent
suspect.
These arc traits we see far too
often in the police of our fair city:
weekend warrior types who
would’ve become security guards if
they hadn't made it as cops. Men
and women who are more en
thralled by their ability to oppress
than to protect and serve.
I'm just glad 1 could speak
English.
Tnckrr Is a senior biology major and a
Dally Nebraskan columnist.
Correctness brings race rifts
One night several years ago. I
watched “A Dry White Season.”
My friend was supposed to rent “St.
Elmo's Fire” or some other light
comedy. She rented “A Dry While
Season,” then fell asleep before the
beginning credits.
I watched this movie without
interruption, except for my own
sobs and sni flics. 1 loved the movie,
but I was lefl with a deep feeling of
guilt.
The next day, l called the man I
was dating at the time to apologize
for being white.
After he stopped laughing at me.
he asked me what my problem was.
We got into a deep conversation
on apartheid and race relations. It
soon became clear that I, a white
woman, was far more aware of
racial tensions than he, a black man
from Newark, N.J.
Throughout our conversation. I
used the term African American
After awhile he corrected me,
saying he preferred to be called
black.
“If I am African American,
you're English, Welsh. Scottish,
etc., American; and there’s no way
I’m going through all that,” he
said. “Besides, you look Irish.”
Well, excuse me. I thought I was
being politically correct.
To hell with political correct
ness. It's ruining race relations,
anyway.
Communication is the key to
understanding. If everyone is afraid
of offending everyone else, no one
is going to talk.
Segregation here we conic.
When I was in grade school,
there was one black child in my
class. His name was Dan. He had
always been my friend without any
i
To hell with political correctness.
It’s mining race relations, anyway.
Communication is the key to un
derstanding. If everyone is afraid
of offending everyone else, no one
is going to talk. .
(bought of differences.
One day, some of my friends and
I wanted to know what his hair felt
like. We asked if we could touch it.
He bent down, and we all touched
his head.
If that were to happen today, all
hell would break loose.
It wasn't rude. It wasn't a racist
thing to do. It was children wanting
to understand what makes some
people look different from others.
It’s communication, and it is good.
Recently, a new girl was hired
where I work. She's Puerto Rican.
Her skin is a beautiful light brown,
her hair and eyes very dark. Her
last name is Hispanic but could be
Filipino.
No one would dare ask her
nationality. It wouldn’t be politi
cally correct. So we speculated.
Thai's stupid. Now that I’ve
gotten to know her. I asked if she
would have been offended if I had
asked her nationality. She laughed
and said, “No!”
I don’t have a problem with
rules, for the most part. I really just
have problems when I don’t know
what the rules are. I can follow
them just fine, usually.
That’s the problem with political
r
correctness. Just when I think I
have it all right, someone changes
the rules on me. Geesh.
If you arc Sioux and want to be
called Sioux, not Native American
or American Indian or of a tribal
nation, tell me when we meet. I can
say Sioux, but I don't read minds.
And I don’t mean to offend
anyone if I use the wrong term.
Intention is relevant in communica
tion.
I saw a woman on Oprah once
who said that it didn't matter what
the intention of the statement was.
If she is offended, the person is a
racist. ,
That's ridiculous.
If someone uses a term you find
offensive, take the time to find out
what the person really meant.
Maybe the person really is a
bigot, in which ease, walk away.
Bigots aren't worth the effort of
trying to educate. They can't learn.
But maybe the person just didn't
know the proper term. Take the
time to educate people about your
culture. You may make a new
friend.
Arthur Is a senior news-editorial major
and a Dally Nebraskan columnist.
Keep that smile
Glowing!
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appointment.
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