Breaker, Breaker

Random Memorandum™ to “Teddy Bear,” the crippled lad breakin' into Channel 1-9 on the station house CB: Top o' the mornin' wood, TB! Let me say right from the git-go that we are not unsympathetic to your plight, Citizen Sonny Boy. You are in a difficult — from what I gather, seated — position and we admire you for reaching out, putting your functioning limbs to good use and giving voice to others with similar limitations in the process. However, that being well said, my responsibility as a dutybound lawman is to serve the public interest — the entirety of the citizenry — and therefore, I cannot single out the needs of one, no matter how dire the circumstances, even if he got hisself two bum feets, his daddy was kilt' in a snowstorm and his put-upon mama is dancin' to put food on the table. Truth is, yer’ mama ain’t got no bidness hoofin’ in that club, hoppin' into strangers' laps and such, leavin’ you home alone with nothin’ but yer’ dead daddy’s CB radio to keep ya’ company, boy. But that’s not what concerns me most, TB. What troubles me is the truck traffic pilin' up outside your home address of 229 Jackson since your story broke out on the airwaves! You can’t know this at your tender age, Teddy Bear, but anytime you get more than two 18-wheel rigs together, you can count on all manner o' drinkin’, cussin’ and fisti-cuffin'. Uncivilized unrest I simply cannot have on my watch! Next time, don’t broadcast your plea over the broadband. Micro target your messaging — as the digital marketing nitwits would have it — on Oogle™ or Facebook® and while yer at it, git yourself one of them SlinkedIn® pages, so your make believe work history is out there for old bosses and galfriends to give the once-over. Signing off with well wishes and a proper 10-4, Teddy Bear. Yours Truly, Constable Dooley®.