On stylish detectives and being a fashion icon

It seems that I have become something of a New York City fashion icon. Yet another magnificent piece about my refined taste and sense of style has been published by the wonderful folks at Men’s Wear News. I will need to remember to tell Paul to add these fine journalists to the priority press pass and parking placard lists. Just to give you a sense of how exquisite the article really is, here is one of my favorite quotations:

“Standing along the railing in a charcoal Martin Greenfield hand-tailored suit against the backdrop of lights speckling the skyline and the Queensboro Bridge—now the Ed Koch Bridge, whose new name is the cause célèbre that night—the only peep of bright is Kelly’s Charvet tie, so pink it practically reflects the faraway Pepsi-Cola sign.”

Martin Greenfield suits and Charvet ties. There’s nothing better. But as fine as these suits and ties are, what really makes them shine is that fact that yours truly is wearing them.

“He will not take credit, but under his watch the police department’s dress has improved.”

I must say, this journalist is the cream of the crop. She even recognized the deep sense of humbleness that pervades everything I do.

"'Detectives are looking better than ever before,' he admits. Do people work harder when they dress better? 'I think they feel better and that probably makes them work better,' he says."

Phil, a truly consummate professional, immediately confirmed this when I tweeted him the article. He says that New York City detectives have never looked better as they fumble through dozens of different case checklists, fill out a multitude of log books (for such things as vehicle utilization, telephone calls, sign in/sign out, prisoner debriefings, and so forth), update their DD5’s in the electronic case management system, type up arrays of useless cell phone subpoenas for cases where the phone has seen zero usage since it was stolen, call up IAB to obtain log numbers when they want to use department vehicles to go to court, and, of course, create corresponding essays in their memo books duplicating all the aforementioned information in all its glorious detail. And if any of the memo book entries are missing or the various logs have been improperly filled out, the detective will look quite "dignified and discreet" as he is issued his command discipline by Phil's upstanding henchmen in Inspections.

Phil, the smartest guy on this job, also added that our detectives really do feel better in their stylish suits as they try to jump-start the single working RMP assigned to their respective squad to go out to the latest homicide scene (where priority number one is going to be to make sure that the proper color of crime scene tape is being utilized so nobody gets screamed at in case Phil shows up - but they sure do look good in their suits while doing so).

And so I hope you can see that the brilliance that Phil has brought to the Detective Bureau is quite apparent. Between completing all this redundant paperwork and doing useless stuff to prepare for the squad commander’s upcoming grilling at CompStat, most detectives barely have a chance to go out in the field to conduct any investigations anymore. And that means their great looking suits won’t get ruined. Because a refined suit is what the Detective Bureau is all about.

Appearance, folks, appearance. That’s what it’s all about. (Well, that and useless redundancy. Actually really just anything that makes life miserable for the people who do field work.) That prick Bill Bratton had the broken windows strategy. I have the smoke and mirrors strategy.

Most importantly, though, I made sure to end the interview with the requisite tough guy quote:

“Now it is more speaking events with ties than wrestling with somebody in the good old days,” he says. But tie or no tie, “we will jump out of a car if something happens.”

Damn right. I am the man. I will jump out, direct my detail detectives to make the collar, and then the whole kit and caboodle will get handed off to some schmuck on patrol to process. And I won't have to fear a 10-day hit for failing to make "proper" memo book entries when I do "jump out of the car" and order someone else to take action.

The Ticketgate Chronicles #2: Business as usual

About a week after the big ticket scandal broke I found myself in the conference room surveying a map of citywide skywatch deployments (I will have to one day write a bit about this ingenious concept I invented) when I got a call from a Boro Park resident and good friend of mine, the venerable rabbi Moshe F.

“Commissioner, I have a fistful of double parkers that I need taken care of! The local precinct is refusing to help me out. What should I do?”

“Moshe, haven’t you been reading the papers?”

“Of course, but what’s the problem? Can’t you do anything for me?”

Knowing full well that Charlie might have a wire up on my own phone (you just never know these days), I had to play this the right way. But Moshe does represent a significant voting block that might be of importance to me in my planned mayoral bid, so, of course, I had to help him out.

“Moshe, we can’t just ‘take care of’ or ‘fix’ summonses. That would be illegal, corrupt, and ethically offensive. But, of course, if there are clerical errors we can void the summonses out.”

“But there are no errors, commissioner, I just need these to go away!”

“Of course there are errors, Moshe. There always are. Send them on down and I’ll have someone prepare the necessary paperwork.”

Realistically, are there going to be any errors in the summonses? Probably not, but we’ll just make something up that sounds good.

Folks, please take this as an object lesson in how the real world works. The losers at the bottom of the bureaucratic ladder have no recourse now that they can’t just make summonses disappear. But guys like me who are on top of the world? We just invent official procedures, forms, and log books to make everything appear to be kosher.

You might call this hypocrisy, I simply call it business as usual for the politically connected. Please remember that as you consider contributing to my Police Foundation slush fund. I have a few more Harvard Club dinners lined up that I need to have paid for. Thanks in advance.

The Ticketgate Chronicles #1: That insufferable prick

I had just grabbed my usual decaf iced cappuccino at Dunkin Donuts and was settling into my leather seat in the roving bunker SUV on the way into the office when I got a phone call on my BlackBerry from Charlie, my chief of Internal Affairs. Receiving any sort of direct communication from this guy has become something of a rarity over the years (having entirely lost touch with reality, he thinks he’s some kind of corruption fighting superhero who needs to hide in the shadows all the time), so I knew this would not be a social conversation. I immediately put down my iPad and answered the call.

Charlie proceeded to explain to me in excruciating detail how his ace rat squad cronies had overheard some nonsense about “ticket fixing” while listening in on an unrelated wiretap. I couldn’t believe this guy was wasting my time with something so silly.

“So what’s the big deal, Charlie? Why are you calling me like you just discovered the next Dirty Thirty or Michael Dowd?”

“Uh, well, boss, here’s the thing. We kind of referred this little tidbit to the Bronx D.A.’s office for further investigation. They’ve blown this up into a huge scandal and have dedicated an entire staff of prosecutors to it. They’re also asking us to contribute IAB investigators to the whole affair.”

I was absolutely livid. I kicked the back of the front seat one of my detail detectives was sitting in so hard that he spilled his coffee all over himself. (Oh well, it’s not like he was wearing a bespoke Martin Greenfield suit, so who cares.) I then screamed a few choice words into the phone and hung up. Why do I have so many morons working for me? What kind of idiot refers something like this to the Bronx district attorney? Of all the insufferable pricks in the history of district attorneys, this guy Robert Johnson in the Bronx takes the cake. Like he or his prosecutorial staff of losers has never had a summons taken care of before. What a bunch of hypocrites.

But I must digress. As much as I thought the rats in Internal Affairs royally screwed up, the cat was out of the bag. And as a master of the political arts, the only thing left to do was to orchestrate a little damage control to protect my own reputation. That, of course, meant to fully back the Bronx D.A.’s bogus investigation with the full force of my Internal Affairs Bureau (as the brilliant Sherlock Holmes-ian investigators that they are). As we rolled into One Police Plaza I tossed the rest of my iced cappuccino into some random cop’s face and made myself comfortable in the office with a generous helping of Kool Aid.

I immediately called upon Mordechai, my special projects man, who spent several days rummaging through various city storage facilities to dispose of any evidence that might embarrass important folks such as myself or Mike. I can assert with confidence now that nobody will ever be able to prove that I had a ticket “fixed.” (And, of course, I never knew anything about any ticket fixing going on in this department. I am shocked, disgusted, and deeply outraged by this corrupt practice.)

I then ordered a full work-up of GO-15s and other disciplinary goodies to bestow upon all the losers on patrol who write moving violations. Throwing a couple of working guys and gals under the bus is simply another cost of doing business in the office of the almighty police commissioner, folks!

The smartest guy ever born



As many of you already know, I was forced to issue a "strong defense" of Phil, my Chief of Detectives. For some reason a bunch of obviously lazy detectives are going around bitching about "duplicative paperwork" and are accusing Phil of "hampering" their investigations. Therefore, let me just cut to the chase: Phil is, without a doubt, the smartest guy ever born in the history of civilization. It's true. As I said in my statement:

"Chief Pulaski is a consummate professional whose outstanding work ethic, experience, training and intellect are unrivaled in the distinguished annals of the Detective Bureau. He has high standards and he insists on accountability, traits that are to be encouraged and admired in a leader."

Off the record, I have to admit that my public relations man, Paul, has really outdone himself with that quote. I don't think even the Soviets ever managed to cram this much tripe into only two sentences. "The distinguished annals of the Detective Bureau"? I mean, seriously, who the fuck comes up with stuff like that?

As to the criticisms this so-called "committee" is presenting, what's the big deal? A couple of logbooks and checklists never hurt anyone. In fact, I am so impressed by Phil's intellect and consummate professionalism that I asked him to dedicate an hour of his precious time coming up with a plan to improve my own day-to-day workflow. He quickly implemented a set of brilliant procedures, as evidenced by a sample of my day:

0615 hrs - I finish showering and add a line to the Shower Log: "0600 hrs - P.C. Raymond W. Kelly - Shower utilized."

0630 hrs - My protective detail swings by my apartment. They sign in at the new P.C. Apartment Protective Detail Sign In/Out Log.

0635 hrs - I get in my roving bunker SUV but quickly realize that I forgot to complete the Commissioner's Apartment Movement Log. I run back inside and add a new entry: "0635 hrs - P.C. Raymond W. Kelly - Leaving residence via P.C.'s SUV."

0638 hrs - "Don't forget to sign in the logbook, boss." The detective hands me the Roving Bunker Vehicle Utilization Log. After squinting to read the gas indicator and odometer, I add the appropriate entry: "0638 hrs - P.C. Raymond W. Kelly - gas 3/4, odometer: 7893.2." I duplicate the same entry in the Roving Bunker Vehicle Movement Log.

Phil immediately made a note at this point upon reviewing the logbooks: "Does it really take three whole minutes to get from the apartment to the SUV?" Hmm. Excellent point. Kissing Veronica good-bye does seem to waste precious seconds.

0645 hrs - The detective riding shotgun asks me if we are making the customary stop for coffee. I answer in the affirmative. He grabs the Roving Bunker Vehicle Movement Log and adds a line to document the stop as we pull up in front of Dunkin' Donuts.

0648 hrs - I grab the Coffee Acquisition Investigatory Checklist before jumping out of my SUV. I proceed to order the usual decaf iced cappuccino. I'm not sure why, but the folks at this D&D seem particularly annoyed as I verify each bullet point on the list while sipping on my cappuccino.

0715 hrs - Half-way through the extensive checklist the manager asks me to never visit his establishment again. Baffled, I return to my vehicle and one of the detectives makes an entry in the Roving Bunker Vehicle Movement Log.

0716 hrs - I turn my attention to the plethora of newspapers that I get each day. I nearly forget to fill out the Newspaper Receipt Log for each paper.

0728 hrs - Arrival at the Puzzle Palace. I sign in the Police Commissioner's Elevator Utilization Log.

0730 hrs - Arrival at the office. Due to the fact that we got stuck in traffic earlier, I add an appropriate notation in the Unusual Traffic Delay Log.

Phil noted at this point that there were some timeline discrepancies in the Foot Movement Log, which is prepared for any time that I get out of the SUV and walk on foot. For instance, the Foot Movement Log put me at HQ at 0729 hrs, even though the Police Commissioner's Elevator Utilization Log says I was there are 0728 hrs.

Anyway, I think you probably get the picture by now. Most people would call this micromanagement. I simply call it "accountability." Paul summed it up succinctly:

“It’s absurd to suggest that the Chief’s insistence on accountability would negatively impact clearance rates,” police spokesman Paul Browne responded in an e-mail.

Absurd indeed.

 

I am Boss Kelly

I am, of course, generally known as an extremely humble person, but I would be remiss if I didn't point my loyal readers to this marvelous piece of journalism published last May by my wonderful friends at New York Magazine. Just look at that photograph. I look like a man in charge, don't I? Boss Kelly. That really says it all. I'd just like to share a quote from this incredible piece with you:

“He is a gadget geek who raves about his iPods and iPad, and his SUV is a roving bunker that, like most of his additions to the Police Department in the last eight years, has been outfitted with the latest technology. In front of him is a computer on a flat screen, a mahogany foldout desk, a television wired to a satellite dish on the roof, a VCR, a DVD player, a fax machine, two hard-line phones, a flexy reading lamp, a variety of police radios cued in to the city’s 76 police precincts and other commands—like the Barn, where the NYPD’s counterterrorism unit is stationed—pouches stuffed with dossiers, and all the morning’s newspapers.”

What they forgot to mention is that the IBM Selectric typewriter is noticeably absent from my impressive lineup of high tech gear. You know, those devices that every precinct in the city still has to use to get work done. The ones we spent a million bucks on last year. But pretty please don't tell anyone this because I really love all my exclusive commissioner's gadgets and I'd hate for Mike to catch wind of this and take them away from me.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to locate the nearest Dunkin' Donuts on my iPad and grab an iced cappuccino. Decaf. Because some idiot lieutenant who had his laptop stolen is banging away on a typewriter next door to my office vouchering photographs for evidence and it's giving me a headache.

Paul tried to shut me up

My Dear Readers,

I won't go into too much detail, but suffice it to say Paul doesn't like this whole blogging thing. He's always saying vague things about "public relations coherency" and waxing philosophical about having a "unified PR mouthpiece" and other such things that make me think he must have formerly headed a politburo.

So, anyway, he came up with this seemingly brilliant plan that I should submit all drafts of my blog posts to his minions at DCPI for "editing." Well, as it turns out, they've been editing every word until there was nothing left at all. I told him he's an asshole and that I'll be blogging on my own again, without his interference.

Billy Boy is "coasting" back to NYC

Paul sent over a specially highlighted copy of the Daily News this morning with the following photo in it:



Yep, that's right, it shows Billy Boy crying at his little "end of watch" ceremony with the LAPD. I was laughing so hard it brought tears to my own eyes to see this. But back to the serious business at hand here, there is nothing funny about that prick coming back here. Why can't he just go "coast" on back to Boston where he belongs? This clown is getting more press exposure in NYC than I am. Who the hell do these reporters think they are, anyway? I ordered Paul to immediately "verify" this particular Daily Snooze reporter's press credentials. I am confident he will find some kind of clerical error that will require the credentials to be immediately revoked.

And then Billy Boy had the nerve to say this:

""I intend to not fade away," he added. "I think you'll see quite a lot of me."

Like I haven't seen enough of this guy all over the papers already these past couple of months. He better not even so much as jaywalk! I'm the sheriff in this town and he is going to be made to feel it.

"Bratton has no interest in elected office, he told The News, but said he'd consider a return to his old job at 1 Police Plaza down the line."

An arrogant son-of-a-bitch, I tell you. I still have the feeling that he's working out some kind of deal with Mike for that third mayoral term. Mike's chief of staff denies it, but every time I try to call Mike personally to discuss this he either tells me he'll call me right back and hangs up (and never does call back), or he doesn't answer at all. And I know he's purposely ignoring me because it doesn't go immediately to voicemail, it rings a couple of times first. He's screening my calls and sending them to voicemail on purpose, that backstabbing bastard.

I wonder how General Carl von Clausewitz would handle this whole situation?

P.S.: I ordered Mordechai to assemble a permanent observation post to sit on Elaine's. I know that asshole will show up there sooner or later.