The Charlie Bravo Story

The Thin Blue Line

Dad here; hate is a very strong word, and words mean things. I would like to say that I have no hatred for anyone, but “bullies” are a breed I struggle with refraining from hating, so let’s just say I have “abject aversion”. And this goes for all bullies, from the playgrounds to the politicians to the pompous ones hiding behind their pulpits, or even the most toxic bully we all face right now:

A media that would divide us.

I’ve never been a huge fan or enemy of the police as I’m an avid motorcyclist, and I’m usually just attempting to fly underneath their radar, so to speak, avoiding any “performance awards”. But the recent demonization of such a large group of our own brothers and sisters based on not the color of their skins but the color of their uniforms because the media tells me I should has caused me to pause and consider; how would I respond if I suddenly went from hero to zero?

As a matter of fact, I believe we all have at one time or another. In my case, it was in the world of corporate sales; when you turn a certain age, the rules seem to keep changing until you find it unbearable and just walk away. The same might be true in a marriage gone south or a friendship turned sour; rejection is a bitter pill to swallow.

So Charlie and I started a making a point on our travels of stopping when we see a parked patrol car and thanking them for their service. Some may call this “brown-nosing”, and that’s just fine with me, as these are the type of people that delight in division in the first place. I hate the thought of Charlie being discriminated against because of her breed, any person because of the color of their skin, or a child because of an extra chromosome; discrimination is discrimination, regardless of how it’s packaged.

Today, Charlie and I took the Honda out for a little rip around town, and we spotted a parked patrol car. We were in a city that calls itself “Dogtown”, somewhat hypocritically as this same city has as nonsensical ban on certain dog breeds based on doG-knows-what reasoning. But that’s a post for another day…

We stopped and talked to the trooper for a bit, and discovered an earth-shattering fact: he was (gasp) just a man. A man with a wife, two kids and two dogs that hog his bed at night just as selfishly as the inmates as the Casa del Whackos. The kind of person who you would not want to trifle with, but also the kind of guy that you would want to have at your back if the going got rough. It seems to me that many of the police that the media would have us to believe are such bullies are in fact being bullied themselves. If history shows us anything, it’s that when a segment of the population can be carved out for derision, it’s merely a matter of time before that same hatred engulfs other groups as well, and that society will eventually devour itself from within.

Don’t drink the media’s Kool-Aid; if we don’t all hang together, we’ll all end up hanging seperately. We will now return to Charlie’s regularly scheduled programming…

We be of one blood, ye and I.

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