Half the cops in town are honest, and the rest are smart. You can guess which type I prefer. A greased palm or two can work wonders. (Turn that into a meme, ha ha.) The honest cops either quit or get fired, or they eventually wise up and start getting their share. I think my son Preston knows how things work with law enforcement; he grew up here, after all. He’s at college, working toward an MBA. He’s ambitious as hell and thinks he’ll become the next Bezos or Zuckerberg. Maybe. I thought I could do anything at his age. Well, I did something. No regrets, though—regrets are for the poor.
Copyright © 2021 by David V. Matthews
September 4-5, 2021