(Flagstaff, AZ) My travels frequently take me through The Grand Shitstain State, and when I find myself in Arizona, I always make it a point to visit one of their fabled public houses, preferably late at night. I’m in one right now, barely tolerating a third gut-wrenching karaoke rendition of ‘Before He Cheats,’ periodically grinding my teeth into the corner of my iPad to center my writhing Chi. Why am I doing this? My sexy sexy masochism, sure. Because I know all the words to and references in “We Didn’t Start the Fire” and my super particular fetish is lording it over a bunch of sloppy hicks? Absolutely. But also because I go to Arizona bars for two reasons every time: to get blasted on shitty pilsner and get raped. And I am damned close to being out of boozin’ money.

See, the Grand Mexihatin’ State isn’t just famous for its wildly corrupt sheriffs and serial killer governors. It is unique as the only state in the union where merely being present in a bar is a legal invitation into your gash. Let me paint you a picture:

A cop in Flagstaff pounds a John Daly six-pack (8) and heads over to a local watering hole, using his badge to gain entry. He then proceeds to come up behind some lucky slut and shove his sausage fingers up her skirt to get a feel of her slit. The bitch then decides that, even though she was totally in a bar at night, she somehow wasn’t asking to get touched up by a stranger with booze exacerbated, socially enabled sense of entitlement.

Oh ya, bitch. Nobody’s buying it. Except the bouncers who removed the dude, who in turn pulled out the trusty badge immunity talisman that wards off douchebag responsibility again. Well thankfully, a good, old fashioned she-judge knew that this was, while a felony assault, also a learning experience for a would-be discount bin whore.

[Judge Jacqueline Hatch] asserted that it was the victim’s fault, as she was at the bar. “If you wouldn’t have been there that night, none of this would have happened to you,” the Daily Mail quoted the judge as saying. [NewsTrackIndia]

Judge Jackie should have brought me in as a character witness, because I would have destroyed that harlot. I could have told her that women don’t have social lives for any other reason than our vexatious biological imperatives grabbing us by the uteri and dragging us through untold dark alleys and cowboy bars where you can number the rapists just by counting the American flag button-up shirts and multiplying by two. You think we want to leave the safety and familiarity of our duties in the kitchen? Our vaginas just get all plump and hungry, and we can’t help but go out for some baby batter, no matter what we do. Secretly, we are all afraid our pussies will grow teeth and feed on our fallopia japonica, and go all anime holocaust on us. All told, she got off entirely under-groped.

The bad news is that what the public safety officer did, when it comes down to semantics, was still kind of a felony. He got nailed with two years’ probation, fired, and because of that, will probably lose his house. But the real kick in the spunk bunkers is, it is a violation of his probation to even think about booze. So as his life collapses around his first offense, a drunken mistake, he can’t even drown the misery. Heh. Fuck the po-lice. You want to feel bad until you realize that, if he wasn’t a public safety officer, was just a normal person, he would have ended up on the sex offender list, with all the joy that entails. Hey, if he hadn’t have been at the bar so late, this may never have happened.

Or maybe, if we, as a society, demanded that cops leave their guns and badges at the office when they go home, this mess could have been avoided. If asshole cops could leave their sense of entitlement in their gay little uniforms, they might think twice about harassing people when they are off duty, and may just avoid making the press for acting in an official capacity whilst retarded. I was once harassed by an NYC cop in fucking gym shorts. GYM SHORTS! Without pockets! Where was he even keeping his badge? There is absolutely no reason a cop needs to hang on to his penis stretcher after work hours. As a school teacher, I can’t run around telling teenagers to sit down and shut up and write an essay outside of school, can I? Cops need to realize who is here for who, that it is just a job, that most of them are there because they are too stupid to do anything else, and most of the rest are there because they couldn’t fathom a world in which they didn’t have a license to kill another human being – -

Wow, I must be getting drunk. I turned off the irony machine for a second. Anyway…

And Judge Jackie was eventually coerced into an apology she totally meant, you guys: a pussy move probably inspired by a state tired of pumped up rhetoric that gets politicians shot in the face and people to believe Mexicans are hiding in the unlivable parts of Arizona waiting to cut good, white, truck driving American heads off. It’s too bad, I was really hoping this trend would continue into other areas of law. Like when an Indian owned bodega on Long Island gets robbed and destroyed by idiot Christians that thought they were Muslim, a judge could say, ‘Well, if you hadn’t had a store there, and open so late with so much malt liquor, it never would have been wrecked.” What’s good for the hoe-bag is good for the small business owner, eh?

Oops, gotta go. My Rapey-Sense is telling me I have a taker creepin’ up on me. Wish me pregnancy!

<3 Steph~~~{~~@

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