Dear Sheeple,
I always make sure Paul sends me the LA Times as part of my special Commissioner's morning newspaper package. I do this to keep tabs on my arch nemesis Bill Bratton over at the LAPD. I even ordered the DCPI's office to text message me instantly whenever anything concerning that loser appears in any online press stories. So they just texted me this LA Times story a few hours ago. The bastard is resigning!
Now that in and of itself didn't really concern me all that much, until I read the following line in the article:
"Bratton is expected to relocate to New York City to run the firm."
My reaction upon reading that sentence was not pretty at all. Have you ever had one of those moments where reading something in the newspaper literally causes you to have an explosive diarrhetic attack? Well, let's just say I had to put in a call to the quartermaster's unit to requisition a new office chair. Oh, and my favorite Martin Greenfield suit is no longer wearable. Dammit.
Anyway, so supposedly Billy boy is coming to the city to run some kind of private security firm. Yeah, sure. I bet he had a meeting with Mike. That backstabbing bastard is going to show me the door and boot me out when he wins his third term. Just yesterday at a campaign reception I walked up to Mike for a little chit chat and without even acknowledging me he summoned his chief of staff, who in turn told me to "walk away, enjoy the caviar, and then quietly leave. And don't show up to these events again, ever." What a bunch of assholes.
Something is up and I don't like it.
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