From: (Laurence Doering)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: REPOST: bumper sticker police
Organization: Kraft durch Spargelkohl
Lines: 77
Message-ID: <909ho3$>
Date: 1 Dec 2000 20:02:59 -0500
X-Trace: 975718991 (Fri, 01 Dec 2000 20:03:11 EST)
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 01 Dec 2000 20:03:11 EST

   We were parked on the median strip of I-95 just north of the
Patuxent River dam when the call came.  Ratt, reclining in the
driver's seat, looked positively edible in her Maryland State Police
uniform, and I was slowly walking my left hand up her khaki-clad
thigh when the radio crackled into life.

    "Cruiser Two, green Volvo station wagon, Maryland tags," Lemming's
voice said.  I keyed the mike as Ratt jammed the gear selector into
Drive.  "Two, tallyho, out," I replied.  We fishtailed across the
shoulder and two lanes of traffic, settling in on the rear bumper
of our target as it cruised along at a sedate 62.  I hit the lights
and siren, and the perp pulled over immediately.

    Ratt hung back to cover me as I walked up to the driver's side
window.  "Mornin', ma'am," I said, tipping my Smokey hat slightly
to her.  "Do you know why we pulled you over?"

    She was in her early 40's, yuppie business suit.  She looked
worried.  "Um, no, Officer," she answered.  "I wasn't speeding,
was I?"

    "Well, as a matter of fact, you were, ma'am.  The posted
limit is 55.  We stopped you for something more serious, though.
Your bumper sticker.  Could I see your license and registration,

    She was clearly mystified, but she fumbled in her purse and
the glove box, and handed them to me.  I passed them off to Ratt,
who went back to our cruiser to do the computer check.  The driver
looked up at me fearfully.

    "Bumper sticker... you mean the one that says 'Kidney Donors
Save Lives'?"

    "That's right, ma'am."

    "But I don't understand.  What's wrong with it?"  she asked.

    "Well," I replied, "think about what it implies.  You're insinuating
that people who *don't* donate kidneys *don't* save lives, right?  That
most people just don't *care*, but if you make them aware of the concept
of kidney donation, they'll come to their senses and stop selfishly
hogging both their kidneys.  Ma'am, I for one don't appreciate the
implication that I am somehow responsible for people dying because
I still have two kidneys, okay?"

     "She's got one prior, Larr," Ratt said from behind me.  "From 1987.
Bumper sticker that said 'You Can't Hug Your Children With Nuclear Arms'."

     I wrote up the ticket and handed it to the driver.  "All right,
ma'am.  This is your first offense in five years, so there won't be
any points off your license.  You'll have to cover the offending sticker
with this, though."  I handed it to her, along with her papers.

     She read it.  "'Kidney Donors are Smug, Insufferable Jerks'?
Officer, is this some sort of joke?"

     I fixed her with a stern glare, hand on my holstered sidearm.
"No joke, ma'am.  It's the law.  Oh, and you'll have to display one
of these on your bumper, too.  Pick one.  Officer Ratt, what have we
got for the lady?"

     Ratt suppressed a smile.  "Okay.  Ma'am, you can choose one of
the following stickers: 'I've Been To Wall Drug', 'They'll Take My
Gun When They Pry It From My Cold, Dead Hands', or 'I Buy My Booze
at the Gin Parlor Party Store, 2340 Gratiot, Detroit.'"

     "Oh, God," she moaned.  "I don't...  oh, the Wall Drug one, I
guess.  It's not about drug abuse, is it?  God, I don't believe this."

     I handed it over.  "You're free to go, ma'am.  And remember,
in the future, *think* before you peel and stick, okay?"