By John Burtis
Tuesday, august 1, 2006
Don't get me wrong, now, you folks on the left, who are always looking for somebody to pounce on just because they present a personal viewpoint in this land of free expression in these days of advanced PC senility which may be at odds with yours, but I'm not here to defend Mel Gibson's reprehensible antics at his traffic stop, nor am I here to bury him.
I'm just going to say that drunks say the darndest things.
as an ex-cop who's stopped his share of those driving under the influence, I've listened to a lot of foul ravings which never make the papers, the blogs, the Los angeles Times, the DailyKos, and the pronouncements issued by the anti-Defamation League.
Cripes, I've been called a badge-kisser, a bastard in a blue suit, a sneak, a pig oppressor of the people, a member of the power elite, a white slaver, a Nazi, a jack-booted thug, a storm-trooper, and a blue meanie, among the more pleasant epithets hurled at me during the course of chatting with inebriated drivers by the side of the road and during the course of field sobriety exams.
and you listen to long embellished histrionics, with pointed ravings directed at Catholics, expensive pest exterminators, pushy relatives, Protestants, shrewish ex-wives, exclusive doctors, grabby lawyers, particular brands of cigarettes, the military, undercover members of the Mexican secret service, bad drugs, men and women from outer space, the nefarious activities of palmists and seers, psilocybin rays beamed into heads, secret powers beyond all control, yes, and at the Jews, too, and so on.
Some of these tales are sad, many are laughable, and many more are deserving of a column or two in the newspaper and a passing note from the aDL. But they occurred with such frequency, and distilled spirits and beer are available with such ease and in such vast quantities for consumption, that it all seems so senseless to run the babbling idiots into the ground with the serried investigatory powers of the press and the other watchdog agencies for their outrageous mutterings, no matter how pestiferous they were.
Now take the contumelious and odious rocket attacks by Hezbollah against Israel. You haven't gotten anywhere near the outpouring of grief, anger, and pent up bile from the aDa, the La County Sheriff's Oversight Office, the La Times, and various Los angeles based religious groups for these dastardly attacks as have been issued in the past day or two about Mr. Gibson's shabby behavior.
But let some well heeled drunk shoot his bloody mouth off during a traffic stop, an every day occurrence which is endured by every cop on the beat, and the goose liver pate really hits the exhaust fan — big time.
Sure, it now appears in hindsight that the benighted Mr. Gibson may have been a bit too haughty for his own good in the land of winkin' blinkin' and make-believe, that Mr. Gibson may have produced a "movie" which portrayed the Jewish influence in the death of Christ as "excessive", according to an increasing number of "critics" in the past 24 hours, and further, that Mr. Gibson has too much money for his own good, and Mel, as he's often called, is a hard nosed "maverick" in a town of liberal lambs available for the shearing. But all of these insinuations are just so much passing gossip in a city noted for its bitchiness.
So it's time for a come down for Mel for being a messy drunk with a big mouth. and mentioning a string of anti-Semitic slurs provides the perfect tool for administering a deserved scourging to the man who saved Hollywood.
and how many times have we, you know, you and me, said something, or a string of things, while under the influence, which we wish we hadn't?
Oh, boy. I once called a nurse I used to date and asked her to marry me. Luckily the poor woman recognized the depths of my inebriation, called me a fool and hung up the phone.
The next morning, after I was admonished by my skiing buddy for my folly, I quickly called her to apologize. Being a tough cookie, she played me for quite awhile, demanding marriage, making me sweat. after awhile she relented and advised me that she was aware of my drunkenness and let me off the hook. I slunk away to ski, a freshly chastened man.
Sure Mel Gibson was an idiot and he has probably learned a valuable lesson about alcohol, automobiles, and their intimate connection to the larynx - a connection many of our premier senatorial solons and their spalpeen are intimately aware of.
Now, what do we have to do to get these same forces whipped up to an acceptable level of excitement and get them to acknowledge the perfidy and maliciousness of Hezbollah, Hamas and the forces of international terror?
The same terror which is killing Israelis, americans and everybody they can get their hands on, including fellow Muslims - a far more dangerous long term problem to every citizen than the inebriated slobberings, however dreadful, of a single drunk on the way to jail — regardless of his diminishing personal worth in the tarnished City of angels.
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