NOT JUST A SYMBOL

Not Just A Symbol

The young man came forward, his face drawn and sad And he held out his hand, displaying his badge. The old chief rocked slowly and put his hands in his lap And shook his head gently, and said, "What is this crap?"

The young cop sniffed, and from his eye wiped a tear, "I've given you my best for almost one year. But I make no difference, as I once thought I could, There is far more evil out there than is good."

The old chief stared up into the young rookie's eyes And tried to recall something clever and wise. "Tell me" he said, to the once eager young cop. "How many DUI's in a year have you popped?"

"Forty-two," the rookie replied with great pride. "And had you not, how many more might have died? It's not how many are arrested, now, is it? It's how many less accident scenes you must visit."

The kid hung his head, and flexed his strong hands, "But, sir," he said, softly," You don't understand. "We're greatly outnumbered, the drugs are the worst, The schools are like hell and the streets , they are cursed."

"Dealers breed like damn roaches. On the kids, they all prey, And even when arrested, they are out the next day." The old chief set his jaw, and tapped a red finger, And on the young cop, his eyes sadly lingered.

"If one little kid cannot get connected, If one pregnant junkie finds the strength to reject it, If one lousy addict decides he can beat it, If one crack-head in a million says I just don't need it...

Then you...have removed his greatest temptation, If only for a night, it might be be his salvation, And wars are not won by those who say: Screw it. They are won by the men who decide they can do it.

The rookie pulled up an old wooden chair And running a hand through his shock of brown hair, "But what about the children and poor battered wives? Why can't we stop it and fix all those lives?"

"Each time you set foot in that same, run-down house Each time you go back to bust that same dirty louse, For the children and wife, the violence has ceased, If for only a few hours, you offer them peace."

"You cannot dictate their sad chosen path, You cannot stop his booze-laden wrath, You can't pack their belongings and cart them away But you can prevent murder for just one more day."

"But sir," he said, his heart heavy like lead, "I know there are dirtbags who wish I were dead, But the public, the press, the politicians fling mud, And who says thank you when we shed some blood?"

The chief pursed his lips, his answer unknown For he knew it was this pain that hurt to the bone, "There's no easy answers for the ache that you feel, But appreciation and praise just ain't part of the deal."

"The respect, gratitude and admiration, too Will not come from people who can't do what we do. You ask for a sense of honor and pride, My advice, my son, is to look deep down inside."

The young cop stared down at the badge in his hand And he knew he would not resign as he planned, For he saw the badge now as not just something he does, It was not just a symbol...It's what he was.

~~ Author Unknown ~~

The bald cop came forward with his notebook in hand, ready to hand it over to the chief. Chief, sitting on his $4,000.00 dollar chair said “What’s up Kojerk”?

Kojerk, wiping the tears flowing from his eyes, said “I have screwed over as many officers as I can but it makes no difference as I thought it would. There are so many more to backstab and just not enough time”.

Chief stared into Kojerks eyes as he tried to recall something clever and wise. “Tell me” he said, to the faithful backstabbing cop. “How many officers have you screwed over this year”?

“Four or five”, Kojerk replied with great pride. “And had you not, how many more would I have had to work harder to screw over for no reasons”?

Kojerk hung his head high and flexed his strong hands, “But sir”, he said, softly, “you don’t understand. “I am greatly outnumbered. There are far to many good cops in this organization and it is getting extremely difficult to screw anyone over. There are very few entries in my notebook”.

“Good cops breed like roaches” said chief. “Even after being accused of wrongdoing, they are back up the next day doing a great job”. The ole chief set his jaw, and tapped a red finger.

"If I can take one good cop down. If I can deteriorate a complete police department. If I can put in place a dysfunctional administration, then you have done your job".

Kojerk pulled up an old wooden chair and stroking his bald head, “But what about all the other good cops in this department? Why can’t I continue to screw them over and ruin their lives”?

“Each time you set foot in the station. Each time you back up a fellow officer on a call. If only a few entries are made in your little black notebook, you offer me peace and some good ammunition on yet another unsuspecting officer”.

“You can not dictate their chosen path. You can not make them bad officers. You can not bring their spirits down. But you can continue to lie, cheat and bring me some information, truth or not, it makes no difference”.

“But sir”, he said, his heart pounding heavily, “I know there are good cops, me not being one of them, wish that I would do something more suitable of my talents like being a bag boy at Publix, and I am just confused”.

The chief pursed his lips, his answer unknown for he knew that Kojerk was absolutely worthless as a cop and really should submit his application with Publix, stated, I am running out of arse kissers and I really need you to suck up to me”.

"The respect, gratitude and admiration, too will not come from good cops. You ask for a sense of honor and pride. My advice, my son, is to look deep down inside and follow your leaders who have no honor, loyalty, honesty or pride, just in it for the big money"


Kojerk stared down at his notebook in his hand and he knew he would not resign as he planned, For he saw the notebook now as not just something he does, It was not just a symbol...It's what he was.

Author: Joe Mama

The bald cop came forward with his notebook in hand, ready to hand it over to the chief. Chief, sitting on his $4,000.00 dollar chair said “What’s up Kojerk”?

Kojerk, wiping the tears flowing from his eyes, said “I have screwed over as many officers as I can but it makes no difference as I thought it would. There are so many more to backstab and just not enough time”.

Chief stared into Kojerks eyes as he tried to recall something clever and wise. “Tell me” he said, to the faithful backstabbing cop. “How many officers have you screwed over this year”?

“Four or five”, Kojerk replied with great pride. “And had you not, how many more would I have had to work harder to screw over for no reasons”?

Kojerk hung his head high and flexed his strong hands, “But sir”, he said, softly, “you don’t understand. “I am greatly outnumbered. There are far to many good cops in this organization and it is getting extremely difficult to screw anyone over. There are very few entries in my notebook”.

“Good cops breed like roaches” said chief. “Even after being accused of wrongdoing, they are back up the next day doing a great job”. The ole chief set his jaw, and tapped a red finger.

"If I can take one good cop down. If I can deteriorate a complete police department. If I can put in place a dysfunctional administration, then you have done your job".

Kojerk pulled up an old wooden chair and stroking his bald head, “But what about all the other good cops in this department? Why can’t I continue to screw them over and ruin their lives”?

“Each time you set foot in the station. Each time you back up a fellow officer on a call. If only a few entries are made in your little black notebook, you offer me peace and some good ammunition on yet another unsuspecting officer”.

“You can not dictate their chosen path. You can not make them bad officers. You can not bring their spirits down. But you can continue to lie, cheat and bring me some information, truth or not, it makes no difference”.

“But sir”, he said, his heart pounding heavily, “I know there are good cops, me not being one of them, wish that I would do something more suitable of my talents like being a bag boy at Publix, and I am just confused”.

The chief pursed his lips, his answer unknown for he knew that Kojerk was absolutely worthless as a cop and really should submit his application with Publix, stated, I am running out of arse kissers and I really need you to suck up to me”.

"The respect, gratitude and admiration, too will not come from good cops. You ask for a sense of honor and pride. My advice, my son, is to look deep down inside and follow your leaders who have no honor, loyalty, honesty or pride, just in it for the big money"


Kojerk stared down at his notebook in his hand and he knew he would not resign as he planned, For he saw the notebook now as not just something he does, It was not just a symbol...It's what he was.

Great post put the last line is wrong. It should read "It's what he IS, which is a RAT".

Author: Joe Mama

That was great.....I have got to hand it to you. That almost brought a tear to my eye, but then I remembered who we were talking about and I just started laughing! :D

The bald cop came forward with his notebook in hand, ready to hand it over to the chief. Chief, sitting on his $4,000.00 dollar chair said “What’s up Kojerk”?

Kojerk, wiping the tears flowing from his eyes, said “I have screwed over as many officers as I can but it makes no difference as I thought it would. There are so many more to backstab and just not enough time”.

Chief stared into Kojerks eyes as he tried to recall something clever and wise. “Tell me” he said, to the faithful backstabbing cop. “How many officers have you screwed over this year”?

“Four or five”, Kojerk replied with great pride. “And had you not, how many more would I have had to work harder to screw over for no reasons”?

Kojerk hung his head high and flexed his strong hands, “But sir”, he said, softly, “you don’t understand. “I am greatly outnumbered. There are far to many good cops in this organization and it is getting extremely difficult to screw anyone over. There are very few entries in my notebook”.

“Good cops breed like roaches” said chief. “Even after being accused of wrongdoing, they are back up the next day doing a great job”. The ole chief set his jaw, and tapped a red finger.

"If I can take one good cop down. If I can deteriorate a complete police department. If I can put in place a dysfunctional administration, then you have done your job".

Kojerk pulled up an old wooden chair and stroking his bald head, “But what about all the other good cops in this department? Why can’t I continue to screw them over and ruin their lives”?

“Each time you set foot in the station. Each time you back up a fellow officer on a call. If only a few entries are made in your little black notebook, you offer me peace and some good ammunition on yet another unsuspecting officer”.

“You can not dictate their chosen path. You can not make them bad officers. You can not bring their spirits down. But you can continue to lie, cheat and bring me some information, truth or not, it makes no difference”.

“But sir”, he said, his heart pounding heavily, “I know there are good cops, me not being one of them, wish that I would do something more suitable of my talents like being a bag boy at Publix, and I am just confused”.

The chief pursed his lips, his answer unknown for he knew that Kojerk was absolutely worthless as a cop and really should submit his application with Publix, stated, I am running out of arse kissers and I really need you to suck up to me”.

"The respect, gratitude and admiration, too will not come from good cops. You ask for a sense of honor and pride. My advice, my son, is to look deep down inside and follow your leaders who have no honor, loyalty, honesty or pride, just in it for the big money"


Kojerk stared down at his notebook in his hand and he knew he would not resign as he planned, For he saw the notebook now as not just something he does, It was not just a symbol...It's what he was.

Author: Joe Mama

I must admit that I like this version much better than the original and OHHHHHHHHHHH So true!!!!!!!!!!!

The bald cop came forward with his notebook in hand, ready to hand it over to the chief. Chief, sitting on his $4,000.00 dollar chair said “What’s up Kojerk”?

Kojerk, wiping the tears flowing from his eyes, said “I have screwed over as many officers as I can but it makes no difference as I thought it would. There are so many more to backstab and just not enough time”.

Chief stared into Kojerks eyes as he tried to recall something clever and wise. “Tell me” he said, to the faithful backstabbing cop. “How many officers have you screwed over this year”?

“Four or five”, Kojerk replied with great pride. “And had you not, how many more would I have had to work harder to screw over for no reasons”?

Kojerk hung his head high and flexed his strong hands, “But sir”, he said, softly, “you don’t understand. “I am greatly outnumbered. There are far to many good cops in this organization and it is getting extremely difficult to screw anyone over. There are very few entries in my notebook”.

“Good cops breed like roaches” said chief. “Even after being accused of wrongdoing, they are back up the next day doing a great job”. The ole chief set his jaw, and tapped a red finger.

"If I can take one good cop down. If I can deteriorate a complete police department. If I can put in place a dysfunctional administration, then you have done your job".

Kojerk pulled up an old wooden chair and stroking his bald head, “But what about all the other good cops in this department? Why can’t I continue to screw them over and ruin their lives”?

“Each time you set foot in the station. Each time you back up a fellow officer on a call. If only a few entries are made in your little black notebook, you offer me peace and some good ammunition on yet another unsuspecting officer”.

“You can not dictate their chosen path. You can not make them bad officers. You can not bring their spirits down. But you can continue to lie, cheat and bring me some information, truth or not, it makes no difference”.

“But sir”, he said, his heart pounding heavily, “I know there are good cops, me not being one of them, wish that I would do something more suitable of my talents like being a bag boy at Publix, and I am just confused”.

The chief pursed his lips, his answer unknown for he knew that Kojerk was absolutely worthless as a cop and really should submit his application with Publix, stated, I am running out of arse kissers and I really need you to suck up to me”.

"The respect, gratitude and admiration, too will not come from good cops. You ask for a sense of honor and pride. My advice, my son, is to look deep down inside and follow your leaders who have no honor, loyalty, honesty or pride, just in it for the big money"


Kojerk stared down at his notebook in his hand and he knew he would not resign as he planned, For he saw the notebook now as not just something he does, It was not just a symbol...It's what he was.

Author: Joe Mama


LOL, that was awesome.

Not Just A Symbol

The young man came forward, his face drawn and sad And he held out his hand, displaying his badge. The old chief rocked slowly and put his hands in his lap And shook his head gently, and said, "What is this crap?"

The young cop sniffed, and from his eye wiped a tear, "I've given you my best for almost one year. But I make no difference, as I once thought I could, There is far more evil out there than is good."

The old chief stared up into the young rookie's eyes And tried to recall something clever and wise. "Tell me" he said, to the once eager young cop. "How many DUI's in a year have you popped?"

"Forty-two," the rookie replied with great pride. "And had you not, how many more might have died? It's not how many are arrested, now, is it? It's how many less accident scenes you must visit."

The kid hung his head, and flexed his strong hands, "But, sir," he said, softly," You don't understand. "We're greatly outnumbered, the drugs are the worst, The schools are like hell and the streets , they are cursed."

"Dealers breed like darn roaches. On the kids, they all prey, And even when arrested, they are out the next day." The old chief set his jaw, and tapped a red finger, And on the young cop, his eyes sadly lingered.

"If one little kid cannot get connected, If one pregnant junkie finds the strength to reject it, If one lousy addict decides he can beat it, If one crack-head in a million says I just don't need it...

Then you...have removed his greatest temptation, If only for a night, it might be be his salvation, And wars are not won by those who say: Screw it. They are won by the men who decide they can do it.

The rookie pulled up an old wooden chair And running a hand through his shock of brown hair, "But what about the children and poor battered wives? Why can't we stop it and fix all those lives?"

"Each time you set foot in that same, run-down house Each time you go back to bust that same dirty louse, For the children and wife, the violence has ceased, If for only a few hours, you offer them peace."

"You cannot dictate their sad chosen path, You cannot stop his booze-laden wrath, You can't pack their belongings and cart them away But you can prevent murder for just one more day."

"But sir," he said, his heart heavy like lead, "I know there are dirtbags who wish I were dead, But the public, the press, the politicians fling mud, And who says thank you when we shed some blood?"

The chief pursed his lips, his answer unknown For he knew it was this pain that hurt to the bone, "There's no easy answers for the ache that you feel, But appreciation and praise just ain't part of the deal."

"The respect, gratitude and admiration, too Will not come from people who can't do what we do. You ask for a sense of honor and pride, My advice, my son, is to look deep down inside."

The young cop stared down at the badge in his hand And he knew he would not resign as he planned, For he saw the badge now as not just something he does, It was not just a symbol...It's what he was.

~~ Author Unknown ~~


The bald cop came forward with his notebook in hand, ready to hand it over to the chief. Chief, sitting on his $4,000.00 dollar chair said “What’s up Kojerk”?

Kojerk, wiping the tears flowing from his eyes, said “I have screwed over as many officers as I can but it makes no difference as I thought it would. There are so many more to backstab and just not enough time”.

Chief stared into Kojerks eyes as he tried to recall something clever and wise. “Tell me” he said, to the faithful backstabbing cop. “How many officers have you screwed over this year”?

“Four or five”, Kojerk replied with great pride. “And had you not, how many more would I have had to work harder to screw over for no reasons”?

Kojerk hung his head high and flexed his strong hands, “But sir”, he said, softly, “you don’t understand. “I am greatly outnumbered. There are far to many good cops in this organization and it is getting extremely difficult to screw anyone over. There are very few entries in my notebook”.

“Good cops breed like roaches” said chief. “Even after being accused of wrongdoing, they are back up the next day doing a great job”. The ole chief set his jaw, and tapped a red finger.

"If I can take one good cop down. If I can deteriorate a complete police department. If I can put in place a dysfunctional administration, then you have done your job".

Kojerk pulled up an old wooden chair and stroking his bald head, “But what about all the other good cops in this department? Why can’t I continue to screw them over and ruin their lives”?

“Each time you set foot in the station. Each time you back up a fellow officer on a call. If only a few entries are made in your little black notebook, you offer me peace and some good ammunition on yet another unsuspecting officer”.

“You can not dictate their chosen path. You can not make them bad officers. You can not bring their spirits down. But you can continue to lie, cheat and bring me some information, truth or not, it makes no difference”.

“But sir”, he said, his heart pounding heavily, “I know there are good cops, me not being one of them, wish that I would do something more suitable of my talents like being a bag boy at Publix, and I am just confused”.

The chief pursed his lips, his answer unknown for he knew that Kojerk was absolutely worthless as a cop and really should submit his application with Publix, stated, I am running out of arse kissers and I really need you to suck up to me”.

"The respect, gratitude and admiration, too will not come from good cops. You ask for a sense of honor and pride. My advice, my son, is to look deep down inside and follow your leaders who have no honor, loyalty, honesty or pride, just in it for the big money"


Kojerk stared down at his notebook in his hand and he knew he would not resign as he planned, For he saw the notebook now as not just something he does, It was not just a symbol...It's what he was.

Author: Joe Mama

Not Just A Symbol

The young man came forward, his face drawn and sad And he held out his hand, displaying his badge. The old chief rocked slowly and put his hands in his lap And shook his head gently, and said, "What is this crap?"

The young cop sniffed, and from his eye wiped a tear, "I've given you my best for almost one year. But I make no difference, as I once thought I could, There is far more evil out there than is good."

The old chief stared up into the young rookie's eyes And tried to recall something clever and wise. "Tell me" he said, to the once eager young cop. "How many DUI's in a year have you popped?"

"Forty-two," the rookie replied with great pride. "And had you not, how many more might have died? It's not how many are arrested, now, is it? It's how many less accident scenes you must visit."

The kid hung his head, and flexed his strong hands, "But, sir," he said, softly," You don't understand. "We're greatly outnumbered, the drugs are the worst, The schools are like hell and the streets , they are cursed."

"Dealers breed like darn roaches. On the kids, they all prey, And even when arrested, they are out the next day." The old chief set his jaw, and tapped a red finger, And on the young cop, his eyes sadly lingered.

"If one little kid cannot get connected, If one pregnant junkie finds the strength to reject it, If one lousy addict decides he can beat it, If one crack-head in a million says I just don't need it...

Then you...have removed his greatest temptation, If only for a night, it might be be his salvation, And wars are not won by those who say: Screw it. They are won by the men who decide they can do it.

The rookie pulled up an old wooden chair And running a hand through his shock of brown hair, "But what about the children and poor battered wives? Why can't we stop it and fix all those lives?"

"Each time you set foot in that same, run-down house Each time you go back to bust that same dirty louse, For the children and wife, the violence has ceased, If for only a few hours, you offer them peace."

"You cannot dictate their sad chosen path, You cannot stop his booze-laden wrath, You can't pack their belongings and cart them away But you can prevent murder for just one more day."

"But sir," he said, his heart heavy like lead, "I know there are dirtbags who wish I were dead, But the public, the press, the politicians fling mud, And who says thank you when we shed some blood?"

The chief pursed his lips, his answer unknown For he knew it was this pain that hurt to the bone, "There's no easy answers for the ache that you feel, But appreciation and praise just ain't part of the deal."

"The respect, gratitude and admiration, too Will not come from people who can't do what we do. You ask for a sense of honor and pride, My advice, my son, is to look deep down inside."

The young cop stared down at the badge in his hand And he knew he would not resign as he planned, For he saw the badge now as not just something he does, It was not just a symbol...It's what he was.

~~ Author Unknown ~~

Thank you. This is very touching, especially in these trying times and so many officers being hurt or killed.

[quote="PROUD LEO":1r3itfet]Not Just A Symbol

The young man came forward, his face drawn and sad And he held out his hand, displaying his badge. The old chief rocked slowly and put his hands in his lap And shook his head gently, and said, "What is this crap?"

The young cop sniffed, and from his eye wiped a tear, "I've given you my best for almost one year. But I make no difference, as I once thought I could, There is far more evil out there than is good."

The old chief stared up into the young rookie's eyes And tried to recall something clever and wise. "Tell me" he said, to the once eager young cop. "How many DUI's in a year have you popped?"

"Forty-two," the rookie replied with great pride. "And had you not, how many more might have died? It's not how many are arrested, now, is it? It's how many less accident scenes you must visit."

The kid hung his head, and flexed his strong hands, "But, sir," he said, softly," You don't understand. "We're greatly outnumbered, the drugs are the worst, The schools are like hell and the streets , they are cursed."

"Dealers breed like darn roaches. On the kids, they all prey, And even when arrested, they are out the next day." The old chief set his jaw, and tapped a red finger, And on the young cop, his eyes sadly lingered.

"If one little kid cannot get connected, If one pregnant junkie finds the strength to reject it, If one lousy addict decides he can beat it, If one crack-head in a million says I just don't need it...

Then you...have removed his greatest temptation, If only for a night, it might be be his salvation, And wars are not won by those who say: Screw it. They are won by the men who decide they can do it.

The rookie pulled up an old wooden chair And running a hand through his shock of brown hair, "But what about the children and poor battered wives? Why can't we stop it and fix all those lives?"

"Each time you set foot in that same, run-down house Each time you go back to bust that same dirty louse, For the children and wife, the violence has ceased, If for only a few hours, you offer them peace."

"You cannot dictate their sad chosen path, You cannot stop his booze-laden wrath, You can't pack their belongings and cart them away But you can prevent murder for just one more day."

"But sir," he said, his heart heavy like lead, "I know there are dirtbags who wish I were dead, But the public, the press, the politicians fling mud, And who says thank you when we shed some blood?"

The chief pursed his lips, his answer unknown For he knew it was this pain that hurt to the bone, "There's no easy answers for the ache that you feel, But appreciation and praise just ain't part of the deal."

"The respect, gratitude and admiration, too Will not come from people who can't do what we do. You ask for a sense of honor and pride, My advice, my son, is to look deep down inside."

The young cop stared down at the badge in his hand And he knew he would not resign as he planned, For he saw the badge now as not just something he does, It was not just a symbol...It's what he was.

~~ Author Unknown ~~

Thank you. This is very touching, especially in these trying times and so many officers being hurt or killed. [/quote:1r3itfet]

Get real fake cop. This is a real phony post. Is this posted by someone who sits behind a desk and has a affair with a CSA and destroys HIS family. Walk the walk and talk the talk and do not hide behind a phony prayer.