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Immoral fish, no surprise

I was cutting fish from mylar, oblivious, lost in fantasies of a pizza I can't afford, when Alicia started screaming, "Are you gonna put that back? You gonna put that back?" Alicia is the woman who was working the jewelry stand two tables down the street from me and the fish, and her shouting startled me. I didn't know what was going on.

There was nobody at Alicia's table. She was shouting more toward my table, and at first I thought she'd spotted someone trying to swipe a bong from the paraphernalia table between her table and mine. We get shoplifters sometimes, and I've seen vendors yell and threaten to arrest thieves, though I don't know how that would work, really. There are always cops on Telegraph Ave, but all they do is hassle the homeless and tell kids not to jaywalk. I don't think they'd want to interrupt that important work, just to handcuff a thief.

Not wanting to give chase without knowing who I'd be chasing and why, I stood up to survey the sidewalk scene and see what Alicia was hollering about. When I stood, rising up over the rack of fish that had blocked my view, I could see that two kids, maybe ten years old, were at my table, and they were the ones Alicia was yelling at. I scowled at them, and one of the kids opened his notebook and took a 'Scream' magnet out, and put it back on the rack he'd swiped it from.

"I wouldn't have taken it," he said sheepishly.

"Bullshit, kid. You would've taken it. You already had." And he would've gotten away with it too, if not for Alicia watching over everything. We vendors look out for each other. I pointed those two brats down the street, and they walked away, and I said thanks to Alicia and gave her a fish.

Memo to kiddies and other incorrigibles: There's a Gap down the street. Shoplift there.

♦ ♦ ♦

Sometimes you look at a stranger and just instantly know you'll hate him or her. At least, that happens to me. There came a woman, white, maybe 40, and she looked like someone who hadn't smiled since she was a kid, and I hated her. She had three adolescentish kids with her, and one of them hesitated for a moment, curious about the fish.

"Keep on walking," the girl's mom commanded. "These are very immoral fish."

I laughed long and extra-loud at that, making sure the mother heard me as she hurried away. Yeah, fish morals ain't what they used to be.

♦ ♦ ♦

Well, it's official, the cops get away with murder — again.

According to this morning's Chronicle, San Francisco's medical examiner, a known hack and unwiped ass named Boyd Stephens, has concluded that Aaron Williams died of "cocaine-induced acute excited delirium." That young man's death had nothing to do with the vicious beating administered by a dozen cops, witnessed by numerous nearby residents.

See, Williams was high on drugs, so the police had no choice but to tackle him, and handcuff him, then pepper-spray him three times, and kick his jaw, and beat him about the face and torso with their billy-clubs until he collapsed and a few more kicks and blows after he collapsed, and then shove his comatose body into a paddy wagon, and give him a 'rough ride' to the police station instead of getting him any medical attention until they finally noticed he'd stopped breathing. SFPD investigators say they've found "no convincing evidence" against any of the officers involved, so that settles that.

Is anyone surprised by this outcome? I'm not. Happens every time.

From Pathetic Life #14
Friday, July 21, 1995

This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance is advised.

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