It’s just perfect for the time of day. Really, really stupid and sometimes (offtimes) substance-enhanced folk trying to outwit the ladies and gentlemen of respective constabularies. What a thankless damn job that is – hug a cop over Christmas.
Anyway, the one element that is a virtual constant is the lying on the part of the suspects. My God, these people are so pathological and they actually think the poor coppers haven’t heard such bullshit tales a million times over.
A particular favorite – and the one that provided the theme inspiration for this blog – was one that involved a couple of pissed-as-nits young louts who rolled their car after a police chase. One guy was pinned in the car (he was later extracted virtually unharmed) and the other guy sat and chatted with the police about what happened, who was driving, and so forth.
Well, according to the tale, neither of the lads was driving. The one behind the wheel, and who had scarpered over the bank behind them was a dude name ‘Scoobie’. No, the interviewee couldn’t remember Scoobie’s last name (even though he’d attested he was a “really good friend”. About Scoobie’s address: “Oh wait, I know it – it’s-it’s – no, I just can’t remember at the moment.” Ultimately it became a case of “Book ‘em, Danno,” in the absence of the mysterious Scoobie.
Well, since that time Scoobie has become a kind of folk hero for Wendy and I. If something goes wrong in our lives, perhaps even something we’ve done or not done, we’ve found it convenient to blame Scoobie.
He has become our universal scapegoat.
Every home should have a Scoobie. Feel free to share him.