View from the cop: Crime & punishment
View from the Cop is moving to a new site on Wordpress. Blogger Steve Rose of the Sandy Springs Police Department gives his take on crime, offers safety tips and give his weekly picks from the police blotter. Follow Steve Rose to the new blog site.
AJC.com > Metro > View from the cop > Archives > 2007 > August > 22
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The Case of the Fatal Error Message
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Monday was like every other Monday except that everything at work was different and a bunch of other things, but other than that it was the same. I left work, went home after a short hour-and-a-half drive, and got the mountain bike. I ride the mountain bike because everything about it is rugged—like me. I’m a rugged guy.
I was riding my rugged mountain bike without brakes. I don’t need brakes. Brakes are for sissy-boys. I was riding my rugged mountain bike, the one without brakes, down the rugged trails. I was sweating like most rugged guys do, as I rode the rugged trails. I left my phone behind because rugged guys don’t use cell phones on the trails. They use smoke signals or just yell really loud.
For the next hour I ruggedly rode the mountain bike down the trails, working up a good sweat—not glistening — as I watched the other riders pass me, at a high rate of speed, on my left of course. Rugged isn’t necessarily fast.
I rode the trails wearing my used hockey helmet. I don’t wear bike helmets. They sit up too high on the head and they curl up on the back end making one look like some sort of space-gnome in a low-budge science fiction movie. No, I wear a hockey helmet with a sign on the back that reads “Convicted Felon” just in case someone wants to pass me on the right.
Following my ride, I returned to my pickup truck, extended cab with full bed and toolbox, chrome, not plastic. Notice I did not say I returned to my minivan. I put my bike in the pickup bed, not on a sissy-rack, all the while wiping my sweaty brow on my Jethro Tull, — original Jethro Tull — concert shirt from the San Diego Sports Arena (circa 1972) as I opened the door to my rugged pickup truck.
As I always do, I checked my cell phone for important calls such as if my neighborhood had issued any bulletins from the Imperial Weed Commandant or if Jeff Dore had finally bought a new tie.
The screen read: Fatal Error 102-Reset. I yelled “Clear!!” and reset the button. I don’t know why I did that. I saw it on TV and I just got excited. I yelled for help. One of the other less rugged guys pulled out his cell phone and called what I thought was 911. I think he got confused and dialed something else.
A short time later some chick named Destiny showed up and told me I had been a bad boy and needed a spanking.
The fact is that we have become so dependent on cell phones that it actually takes away from our ruggedness. It’s ridiculous. Do you know where the nearest pay phone is? I think it’s in Erwin County. I don’t know.
It’s one thing to ride the rugged trails and not to take your cell phone with you. But at least you know you have one. Today I’ll ride the trails but probably not ruggedly. I’ll glisten, not sweat, and maybe I’ll go shopping afterwards. Very strange how these phones affect us.
.JPG)
-1.JPG)
Services »
