Did we run out of cheese?

I thought it would be a relaxing weekend until I stumbled across this article in Sunday's Daily News. What a rag that paper is. They wrote about another Rat Squad scandal wherein a Rat Detective abused his power and threatened to "wreck" a street cop's career if he didn't "take care of" a summons this street cop issued to the rat's cousin.

Maybe we're not pulling these press credentials quickly enough. I left a message on Paul's phone. This is unacceptable. As to this rat, I have dispatched Mordechai and his team. By tomorrow morning, this "detective" will be living his worst nightmare. Mordechai is going to "render" this rat to a secret location, where he will be dressed in full uniform, given a vest, gunbelt, and radio, and will then be dropped off in the middle of the Brownsville Houses. Viper would have been too easy for this coward.

(Unfortunately, I can't reveal more about Mordechai, but let's just say David knows some people from his CIA days and the Police Foundation's counterterrorism funding provides for a bit more than just a few overseas Intelligence detectives. And that's really all I can discuss at this point.)

And don't even get me started on where Charlie is with all this. IAB is bursting apart at the seems here. I've ordered an immediate inventory of the department's current fresh cheese supplies. I suspect we may have run out of cheese and we all know a rat can't operate well on an empty stomach.

Update: Mordechai reports the rendition has been completed. They hit a few snags along the way. Apparently the rat expelled fecal matter into the interior of his uniform pants upon being informed that he would be occupying a foot post in the Brownsville Houses until further notice. Fresh uniform pants were quickly located and the rat is now proceeding with his nightmare assignment: real police work.

Inside CompStat: Why we don't count February 29

Paul just informed me about this article that criticizes us for supposedly "ignoring leap day crimes."

In this ridiculous article this "journalist" states:

"You have to go to the fine print—an asterisk at the bottom of the stats—to get what's kind of an explanation: "Crime figures for February 29, 2008 . . . were excluded to ensure accurate comparisons.""

Well, duh. How else would we continue to claim to be down in crime if we have to count crimes that occurred on a day that didn't even happen last year? Some journalist this clown is. I mean, there was no February 29, 2007, so why would we want to count that day this year? CompStat is all about numbers, folks. Mike tells me every single week that the numbers need to look great, otherwise I better start packing my suitcases. It's a team effort and I do my part.

And, of course, this prick had to bring up that jerk-off Bratton and what he does in Los Angeles:

" It's a no-brainer. One member of the LAPD CompStat unit, surprised that such a question about Leap Day stats would even come up, told the Voice: "That's a day. There was crime that day. So it was included.""

I've ordered Paul to make sure the author has his press credentials revoked and is permanently blacklisted. Because if I don't react quickly to this who knows what'll be printed up in the papers next, ie. "Rampant Index Crime Reclassification," "Complaint Downgrading," "Crimes Being Sent To Circular File," etc, etc. We can't have that.

Where the hell is Charlie?

So we just had another little scandal involving a Captain who apparently forged some time sheets while he was assigned to the Rat Squad as a Lieutenant. Before this stuff starts really snowballing out of control I wanted to find out from Charlie himself just what exactly is going on with his bureau. How could he not have caught this a long time ago?

Anyway, I was going to call him up and have him come to my office. But then I remembered that he doesn't do the whole "show up at the Commissioner's office for a briefing" thing anymore. As of late I'm afraid he's gotten a bit too much into this whole cloak and dagger fantasy of his. He prefers to "stay in the shadows" (his words), as if he's some kind of CIA operative or something. I haven't even seen the man in over a year; and judging from all the scandals that have been happening lately, it seems to be showing in his work - or lack thereof. I'm not even sure if Charlie does any Internal Affairs-ish type stuff anymore.

Sometimes I even wonder if he's actually completely lost his mind. The last time I saw him was towards the end of 2006. He insisted on meeting me in some deserted industrial warehouse area out on Staten Island at 0200 hours in the morning. On the way over he kept calling me up on my cell phone and telling me to "make sure" I wasn't "being followed." And when I arrived at the meeting location he started screaming and raving about how I hadn't brought "the package" (by which he apparently meant an ample supply of cheese, though it took a lot of coaxing for him to finally translate his codeword for me). On top of that, he was wearing an ankle long trenchcoat with a fedora on his head. He hadn't shaved in what looked like months, as his whiskers were sticking out the sides of his face at ridiculous lengths. I was too afraid to quote Patrol Guide procedure on proper grooming for fear of setting him off on another insanely unintelligible rant.

Despite all this, I figured I might as well give it a shot and try to get in touch with him. Unfortunately, his cell phone number is out-of-service. I called his office but was stonewalled by some clown in "Group 32" who would only identify himself as "Investigator 312," who claimed he was under strict orders not to reveal Charlie's location. These guys were really starting to take the cake now. "You clowns couldn't tell what an internal investigation was if it hit you in the head and you're telling me you're refusing to disclose Charlie's location to the POLICE COMMISSIONER?" I was fuming. Investigator 312 simply said "We'll be in touch" and hung up.

I don't know what the hell Charlie has created here, but this isn't exactly the Internal Affairs Bureau I had in mind when I gave him the job. Holy shit, this guy is scaring me.

If anybody sees Charlie, please call me up. Immediately.