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John Palcewski's Journal

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All You Need Is Enough Rope
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The other day I was stopped by a woman in her mid- to late-thirties who was wearing an open-necked blouse that displayed her quite attractive cleavage. She flashed her official identification as an undercover municipal policewoman, and asked me if I knew that tossing bags of unsorted trash into the big bin near the grocery store is a violation of the recycling ordinance? Face flushed with embarrassment, I had to admit that I did, and that it just never occurred to me that I’d get caught doing it. She patiently wrote out a lengthy citation, and said I needed to go to the post office, get a certain form, fill it out, and then pay a 50 Euro fine. Here, I thought, is an instance where these eagle-eyed Italian police in mufti had given me enough rope to hang myself.


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At least you got some cleavage out of it! When I had to pay a 216 dollar ticket in Beverly Hills for "running a red light," (I still maintain I was in the intersection at the yellow) it was a machine that flashed my picture and I didn't even see an officer.

Nice that things in your country are so much more personable.

These days whenever I am confronted by authorities of any kind--and especially at airports--I assume a passive, submissive, polite posture, knowing that Fascism rules worldwide, and woe to those who dare to oppose it, hinder it, or God forbid, mock it.

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