I whole-heartedly agree with your cop friend... and whether you believe it, or not, he WAS NOT JOKING!!! I've been calling LEOs "garbage men" for more years (NOT disparagingly) than many in these forums have been alive, to the chagrin of the daisies who live in Never Never Land. It is reality, and your acutely self-aware LEO friend obviously realizes this reality.

I became aware of this at an early age while living on Chicago's South Side, known as Canaryville (42nd St. and S. Union Ave.). Three sisters who lived in the neighborhood (I was 8 years old at the time) were kidnapped, raped, killed and dumped out in the country. The cops couldn't prevent this horrendous event... all they could do was clean up the mess afterward. Soon thereafter, my family moved back to our home state of Wisconsin fearing mostly for my 10 year old sister's safety, despite the severe hit in pay for my dad. The rapist/killer was never arrested. And there were always the winos and vagrants passed out in the walkways between the row houses and alleys, or coming to the back door for a handout on multiple occasions. How can the cops protect anyone in situations like those?

Interestingly, as an adult, a girlfriend and I were driving around through a scenic area of Wisconsin on a "mobile picnic". Finding ourselves somewhat lost, I spotted an older man leisurely raking leaves in his yard along the Kickapoo River. I stopped the car and walked over to him to find out where in hell we were and how to get back to civilization. He gave me directions and we talked a bit more. He told me that he was a retired Chicago cop and was now just enjoying life. I smiled and told him that I once lived on the South Side and gave him my childhood address. He gave me a funny look and then smiled, telling me that I had lived on his old beat during that time. Out of curiosity I asked him if they had ever caught the guy who had killed the three girls (I know the names but will withhold them). His smile turned to a scowl and he took a second to reply, "Nah, no one was ever arrested... but we KNEW who he was! Just couldn't prove it." I was surprised, and it showed. He knew what I was thinking, which was, "Since when did that ever stop Chicago cops from doing something?!!!" It had been 1958-1959, and things were just taken care of then! He told me with a rueful grin, "Yeah, I know. For some reason, we were told to lay off," and he just shook his head. We had a few more words, then I thanked him for his time and was on my way.

I started shooting when I was 9, with dad's .22 Remington semi-auto. I bought all of my own ammo with my meager $.50 per week allowance until I started working at the age of 10. (At that time a kid could walk into any hardware store and lay down his two quarters for a box of 50 .22 LRs and no one would blink an eye.) I purchased my first pistol at 18. Dad had to buy it, but I paid for it, an Erma .22 Luger-type semi-auto. I shot the hell out of it and became quite proficient. It went on the shelf the next year, as I joined the Navy in 1969. 4 years later I was discharged. One of the first things I did was buy my first center fire pistol, a lightly used S&W M39 9mm along with a new Safariland belt holster and a pile of ammo. Practice, practice, practice... It was slightly too large for me for concealed carry, so I found my first CC gun at a local gun show, a nice little Browning 1910 in .32 ACP, along with a mess of rounds. More practice. I made an IWB holster out of some thin, black shoe leather I had acquired from a friend's father, and carried it in the small-of-the-back position. Through the years, more guns, more holsters, always upgrading.

Anyway, approaching 67 yrs., now, seeing a lot of bad things going on, and avoiding just as many, I have always carried and will do so until the day I die. And then I might just take a few toys with me into the next life for a head start on things.

THAT'S why I carry!!!