Things We Can Bang!
Every year, in Narc academies across the land, young cadets are trained in the craft of detecting criminal behavior. Upon graduation, they are invested with the authority to do something about it
I once saw a news report on CBC about a British journalist who had gone undercover into the highest echelons of the modeling industry and discovered the truth. The industry is nothing short of a sophisticated prostitution ring which serves as an elaborate front to traffic cocaine.
The journalist actually had to go into hiding after the report was shown on British television. As a direct result of the initial broadcast, several people were forced to resign. Mainly three men who ran and operated one of Europe’s biggest modeling agencies.
As I was watching the show, I thought, my head was going to unscrew and explode into outer space. I couldn’t believe what the journalist managed to capture with a hidden camera.
In one incident, a man who was both the president of a modeling agency and a beauty contest judge, offered the journalist an evening on a yacht. The judge told the journalist that a few of the sexier girls had also been invited onboard. Without going into too much detail, in short, during this second private contest, the underage contestants would be offered drugs and sex in exchange for a stab at a modeling career.
These are not runaway girls. Most of these girls are driven to modeling contests in the family Lexus. Not to mention, they diligently prepare for these modeling contests by abstaining from regular meals upon leaving kindergarten.
In another incident, a low level employee of a modeling agency was caught on camera, selling drugs. It would seem agencies do a lot more than just book young girls for modeling jobs.
One young woman claimed, though she had been modeling for years, she was financially broke because she had spent all her money on drugs.
The journalist didn’t indicate whether this corruption was a new development or rooted in tradition. But you know what, even if this sort of corruption has been there from the start, what am to I do about it? What is that journalist supposed to do about it? Neither of us have the authority to arrest or prosecute.
Short of catching a drug pusher red handed, we depend on clever narcotic agents to search for evidence of wrong doing that can hold up in a court of law. Every year, in Narc academies across the land, young cadets are thoroughly trained in the craft of detecting criminal behavior. Upon graduation, they are invested with the authority to do something about it.
See it from the point of a view of a young narcotics agent, genuinely dedicated to fighting crime for the good of the people. That’s why he or she became a Narc in the first place. They took the bother of attaining a position so they could do something about it. Young, beautiful and strong, Ayn Rand figurines with ambitious goals.
Every person has to carve out a role for him or herself and choose between right and wrong. These young men and women chose to serve and protect the community.
A few years in, a few floors above the mezzanine level, most Narcs hit the ceiling. They reach the limit of their authority to do something about it. Imagine the young Ayn Rand figurine, all verve and gusto, all heart and brains to match, on that fateful day when she discovers the most damning piece of evidence that’s been staring everybody in the face since the beginning.
She visits the chief in his office.
Det. Daisy-Lou: “Listen Chief, I have proof. I have proof better than an eyewitness or hidden cameras. I’ve got a case of self-admission to trafficking cocaine straight from the horse’s mouth!”
Chief: “What ya got dis time? Ya randy crackpot. I’m warning you, don’t waste my time!”
Det. Daisy-Lou: “Chief, trust me.”
-
The chief is fuming, but heck he's not paying for the flight anyway, so he leans back to enjoy his salted peanuts.
Next thing you know, the plane descends into Paris and the passengers file through the last exit door, including Detective Daisy-Lou with the Chief trailing behind.
The pair hail a taxi and get off somewhere near the Les Champs-Elysées. Then quickly run up the street and hail another taxi. The driver makes a right, then a left, then another left, before coming to a screeching halt. The doors open and the pair descend to street level right in front of the first fashion house in Europe.
Chief: “You crack pot! Wasted my time again. This is haute-couture. The only thing they're pushing in there is stinky perfume and fancy female outfits! Clothes that whisper by the watercooler, “I'm feminine”, and in the boardroom they murmur, “But I'd rather be the CEO.”
Det. Daisy-Lou: “No, Chief, look, established 1924, the House of Coca Channel.”
Chief: “You nut bar! Coco Chanel, it's a name, the name of the woman who started this outfit.”
Det. Daisy-Lou: “No, Chief listen, at that time, in France, in Europe for that matter, not many people were naming their children Coco. Don't you see, Coco...and in Coca leaves, as in the plant. And then Chanel...don't let the French accent throw you off. It's channel as in a conduit, a canal, a pipeline. Coca Channel!”
The chief is all out of fume.
Det. Daisy-Lou: “I knew it Chief! I knew you would see it my way. Let’s bust down the doors!”
Chief: “Shut up, you Ayn Rand nut case. Nobody is making any arrests.”
Det. Daisy-Lou: “But Chief!”
Chief: “Don't but me! You don't know what you're asking? You want to stay on the force? You want to fight crime? Shut your mouth. You want to have crime to fight? Shut your mouth. Understand? I'm off to see the Louvre.”
Det. Daisy Lou: “But Chief…”
A sad, sad day for our young figurines. Over the years, many have found their way back along Les Champs-Elysées, full-fledged outsiders.
Some make their way to the Eifel Tower and ponder the fate of the world, while far below the lights of Paris twinkle in the twilight. And some write a letter to their loved ones back home.
--
Dear Mortimer, boy do I feel like Serpico today.
Should I leave the force and grow my hair out? What else am I to do? These whiz kids have effectively put in place an order demonstrating their amazing ability to manufacture, transport and distribute things we can bang.
They sell us drugs so we can bang ourselves, prostitutes so we can bang one on one, guns so we can bang a whole bunch from a distance, and finally nuclear bombs, so we can bang the distance away.
It's all about making holes, making use of holes, and making more holes and ultimately destroying the whole.
Drugs to puncture holes in ourselves. Prostitutes to make use of god given holes. We can make a whole bunch of holes with rapid gunfire. Finally, when we're all pooped out, we can just press the button and bang, at the same time we're making a hole out of the old whole, we'll be starting a whole new whole.
Mortimer, I'd like to make an amendment to the Big Bang Theory. Perhaps it was our origins but even more certain, it will be our fate if we do not change our ways.
Signed,
Daisy-Lou, the snoop
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