Dimslow Calls the Cops

I called the police. Sometimes you have to. I called the police on the President of the United States. I called the police when President Bush invaded Iraq. That was illegal. I called the police when President Clinton bombed Iraq, and elsewhere — all illegal under international law, not least. I asked the police, “Aren’t you going to do something about it?” Even if breaking laws is nothing new for presidents.  And what did the police say down in Dimslow Hollow? 

“Sir, that’s a bit outside our jurisdiction.” 

Just what they always say.

“Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free,” I pronounced, putting on my best mock preacher’s voice. “Or is the truth outside your jurisdiction, too?”  

“Look, we’re all up against a lot of bigger truths, Sir. There’s no standard operating procedure for that, you see. Not in these parts anyhow.” 

“No truth?” 

“No, I guess not.” 

“Then you won’t arrest the President? He commits crime after crime for all the world to see.” 

“Would you like me to send a squad car all the way to Washington to circle outside the White House just to have a look? Check for disturbances?” 

“No point. The crimes are committed all across the country and world. They only originate in that Whitest of Houses.”

“Well that may be.”

“So no arrest?” 

“Not by us, Sir. You?” 

“A citizen’s arrest? Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

“Oh, yes, Sir, I believe you. And if I recall correctly, you still have the right. Unless it was tossed out in the Patriotica Act.” 

“They always say I don’t have the authority.” 

“The authority — or the power?” 

“Ain’t it the truth.” 

“Some would say.”

“I’m missing the power — seems like it could be around here somewhere — but I’ve already got the authority, we do.”

“If you say so.”

“I have to.”

“No you don’t.”

“Oh but I do.”