It’s the end of the month, and the cops can’t seem to scribble out tickets fast enough. I’ve seen them waving down bikers in Isla Vista and perched along the bike paths on campus, ready to pounce on skateboarders. The man in blue seems to be in a state of frenzy.

A long time ago, a distant cousin told me – among other loony conspiracy theories – that cops need to meet a certain quota of tickets at the end of each month in order to keep a good standing. I didn’t really believe him or really care, at the time. To be honest, I still don’t completely believe it, but I can’t help noticing a bit of a pattern. Cops are usually present, handing out a few citations to remind us that they’re watching, and that’s fine. I have no problem with “the man” or his pawns, and I don’t intend on trying to write something boring in an attempt to disturb the universe. Cops are like rollerbladers and Ugg boots; they don’t inspire me anymore.

As I cycled to class this morning around 11 o’clock, there were three clean-shaven rookies guarding the Pardall Tunnel, waiting for someone to make a false move. I rode by quickly, but I saw that they were dressed in clean uniforms and looked a little uncomfortable. I guess they must have drawn some pretty short straws to get the Pardall Tunnel gig. As I cycled past, I could see them trying to prevent skateboarders from shooting the tunnel. It’s an obvious question, but it needs to be asked: Is a three-cop battalion necessary to fight the war on uncoordinated longboarders?

This isn’t my main concern, however. The I.V. Foot Patrol can do all the silly shit they want. They can ride actual horses down Del Playa. Groups of them can fearlessly guard front lawns and parks dappled with bikinis. They can even park seven squad cars around my apartment complex, march out with Kevlar and shotguns, and when questioned as to what was going on, they can say it was a submarine crash (true story). That’s fine. I can deal with that, but what I can’t take is them trying to encroach on my right to entertainment.

I don’t think they realize these tunnels and roundabouts were built with these flailing longboard kamikazes in mind. I’m talking about the majority of skateboarders who can’t seem to keep the “ankle-eater” beneath them. This campus is specially designed for the “bike-skateboard collision.” These areas are designated free-for-all zones. We need these crashes.

They are an integral part of the college dynamic. I definitely wouldn’t be so desperate as to set up lawn-chairs and wait for the pile-ups, like some folks, but on the other hand, I wouldn’t be able to get through the day knowing the bike path is safe and orderly. We all yearn to watch that freakishly tall dude in sandals trying to pivot on one foot and keep his balance, while doing his best to keep his sunglasses on. It’s a thing of beauty. It is absolutely a natural wonder. I will paint it on a canvas and name it Love.

As for the cops, aren’t there bigger fish to fry? Aren’t there prostitutes giving baby seals hand jobs with pentagrams tattooed around their areolas out there? Are there not rappers snorting formaldehyde between bites of a groupie’s small intestine? Perhaps not.