Tag Search Result: Police Humor

To the experts, this naked fellow was shot excessively at close range even after he had raised his legs in surrender…that's right, his legs.

An elderly woman passed us rather crisply and we were aghast to read the back of her shirt: "I'm 65 and a grandmother, but I'm ahead of YOU!"

I could shoot a pistol with either hand…while normal Southpaws and Righties had spent their lives neglecting their sad hand on the other side of the brain.

Procrastinating can take a terrible toll on us if we let it get out of hand. And a lot of officers do.

No matter how many folks give input, often directions make no sense at all and only through the sheer fact we have actually observed another doing or using the directed item can we possibly succeed.

You must always speak of the good, for if you turn your words to the Darkside and you use "The Power of Negative Annoyance" you will soon discover the phenomenon of "Career Setback."

I will never forget the first time I heard myself snore. Yeah, I snore pretty good; just ask one of my ex’s or one of my sergeants. But I actually was so tired once my own snoring woke me up! I was working on the Coconino Hotshots fighting a forest fire near Prescott, Ariz., when our squad leader called a break. I just sat where I was on the line and, the next thing I knew, loud snoring awoke me. I looked around and I was the only one within earshot…weird.

OK, I confess. I used to teach how to train the “new generation.” You older cops know who I’m talking about: frankly, the generation not as good as ours.

Bitching may be humanity’s greatest need. It’s certainly high on the list for cops.

February in New York City can bring plenty of snow if the conditions are right. This particular day in February the forecast was for snow accumulations of eight to 10 inches before midnight. My brother, Det. Henry McDevitt, worked in the Four-Eight precinct in the Bronx.

We were working day tours and a July heat wave was stifling New York City. Sgt. Reibe was supervising on patrol and Lt. O’Leary was on the desk. My partner and I operated a sector patrol car, One-Ten Ida.

During the mid-1980s I worked in the department of public safety for a large private senior citizen community of several thousand residents. We were their private police department, composed of retired police officers or former police officers like myself.

Ineffective security, useless gun play, and bad hair days.