Somebody help me here. What kind of ominous situation requires local law enforcement to dispatch their Darth Vader look-alike SWAT units to keep the peace or kick some criminal butt? I’m guessing it has to be a SNAFU’d type of thang that regular cops can’t handle which requires special weapons and tactics, correct?
The reason I’m asking this is because of the events of last week in which riot police were sent out to two different locales on two completely different types of crowds. One I understand, but the other has left me a little discombobulated and a tad discomfited.
The first mob that riot cops were called out for was the one in Phoenix comprised of thousands of out-of-control illegal Mexicans who were POed at the fact that Arizona finally wants to treat them like they’re illegal. Imagine that.
Yep, I get why the SWAT dudes from PPD rolled out for that melee. The mass of protesting Mexicans were out of whack, grabbing their crotches in defiance of our laws, smearing refried bean swastikas on government windows, flipping American patriots off, trashing and destroying property, and cursing in TexMex at the Arizonans who want our immigration laws upheld and who are sick of the costly mayhem these illegals have brought to their beautiful state.
Let’s see, what else did the criminal aliens do to solicit the Phoenix PD’s riot police presence? Man, I know there was something else they did. What was it? Come on, Doug, think man, think! Oh yeah, I remember: They pelted Phoenix’s finest with bottles and trash. Yeah, that was it. Oh, and of course the location of their protest was completely trashed after their ridiculous display of unrighteous outrage.
Hey, Julio … way to further endear Americans to your earthly plight, el stupido. I guess Phil Collins was right; it’s no fun being an illegal alien.
The other crowd that got SWAT called down on them last week was in Quincy, Illinois—a two-hundred member Tea Party that mainly consisted of peaceful, blue-haired old ladies in Depends singing “God Bless America” outside of the venue where His Highness was reading a teleprompter about how great he is and how he plans to further whiz on the Constitution.
Yep, in a scene right out of some B-grade Orwellian flick, the tamest and nicest little old nanas and middle-class couples had Quincy’s Robo-Cops dispatched on them to quell… the, uh … uh … orderly protest and … the … uh … um … patriotic singing and … er … the … the American flag waving. Boy does that make Quincy and BHO look bad, or what?
Y’know, what I have gathered from my SWAT friends down here in Miami and what I have watched throughout the years on TV and on the big screen is that the SWAT card only gets played when things are severely jacked up (as in the Phoenix fiasco), but it seems as if the insane-in-the-membrane element was missing a wee little bit from the quaint Quincy rally. But it got the same treatment as Phoenix. Now that’s weird.
Here are my questions: Did the Quincy tea partiers represent a high-risk op that regular officers couldn’t handle? That’s an option, even though that place looked like Barney Fife could have manned it without ever extracting his lone bullet from his left shirt pocket. Who knows?
Maybe Mr. Whipple had an underwear bomb and was going to light his junk on fire after Obama’s speech? Who can say? Maybe Mr. Rogers had secret hostages sequestered in the Dairy Queen freezer that Quincy SWAT was called in to extract. Or, maybe, just maybe, Grandma Moses posed a terror threat with those long-ass knitting needles she carts around and her high-speed electric wheel chair?
I know … it was the possibility that Floyd the barber would show up to that event secretly armed with his straight razor that required Quincy’s cops to send out an elite paramilitary tactical unit with assault weapons, stun grenades, high-end body armor, and armored vehicles! Gosh, maybe. Who knows? I hope that there was that type of over-the-top reasonable cause for Quincy’s cops to roll like that because if there wasn’t that little display of overt force is beginning to smack of Chavez’s Venez-frickin’-uela to me.
Lastly, if I were a cop and my superiors wanted me to put on stormtrooper gear and march against salt of the earth patriots like those in Quincy, Illinois, I’d tell them no, and if they didn’t like it then they could stick my pointy metal badge up their confused and chunky backside.