“The thin blue line”
John Q. Public shows up to work everyday. He wants everyone to know he’s doing a good job, he wants everyone to know it, he wants it to be known! It matters! Initially, he was a success, but life got in the way…
Being a cop was the easiest solution he could find. College was too long, he didn’t understand delayed gratification. He had an intelligent mind (too intelligent for authority). He could be an entrepreneur (no, he had neither the money, the management skills, the sales pitch or the no security.) His father did just fine as a cop. No, better than fine – he has a beautiful wife who earns most of the money, the love of his life he can take to Switzerland, without paying for it.
He falls in love, he finds a woman willing to support his dream. She pays for him to get set up, settle his debts. Time passes on. Resentments grow like wildflowers: fights over money, the kids, household tidiness, my mother, his mother. It is punctuated by tender moments of love, attention, and success. It was all going well until it wasn’t. More fights, more separation, more of “Let’s drag this out through court, since I can’t pull a gun!”.
Now, he fears losing his pension and other money (How dare this bitch bring it on? She waives the pension!) He is too angry to accept. Why wouldn’t he be? His requests fell on deaf ears for ten years, as did hers. In many moments of panic, he realizes she will win. It’s law: 50/50 split – that’s what the law allows. Half the pension, half of everything. She quietly protected her assets, she has the police reports….. She has four aces, he’s got two.
It’s all too much. He needs to be released from the shackles of authority (not realizing he is one? But wait! He knew?!? Was that how he was affecting change?). He wants to live out life with his new love, but the law he loves is against him – it’s tearing him up on the inside! He somehow fucked up Generation Xerox! The grimy panhandler!
His formative years weren’t too bad… The mother is beautiful (she has perfected the art hair artistry). It is different every day, but somehow the same: the same loving smile, the same warm hugs… There’ just ALWAYS worries over money and food. ALWAYS!
He goes to school (his mom desperately tries to find a job that will work with that – but she can’t). He walks through the school – all the posters have white children on them; the teachers secretly know that the absolute BEST this bastard can be would be a carpenter, and that is on a good day. Nothing is in his favor!
Imagine spending your whole life seeing white people in chains, the whippings, all the horror that man has to offer! It would be one thing if this died with the civil war… but it didn’t! To get a vote, we needed the Voting Rights Act, to get a job we needed Affirmative Action, to get you to listen, we disrupted NFL Sundays…
We just need you to listen, but you are screaming against us instead!
Can middle class people speak? Rich people are too entitled too speak, the poor too stupid: “Just get back to work, dog! Your kids are hungry! You can’t get the job you always wanted! Hell, you can’t get to school! Sure others have, other come but…“
White people are screaming: “What about the gun-slave trade? What about welfare fraud? Did other countries have slaves?“ The fear and the panic are palatable… Accidentally NFL Sunday has been turned against you… Somehow, silent protesting created hate, protesting, a uniquely? American thing started at the Boston Tea Party…
Now it’s harder to get a job, now your bitch can’t afford her nails, now your kids are hungry!
He tried to muster all the strength he could muster, but Malcolm X has now arrived.
These are two scenarios that happened to me recently:
- “I need to eat today, lady!” grimy panhandler says. (The white woman backs off !!!!!)
- “I can’t breathe!” a tiny white woman screams. (She doesn’t get to breathe – she gets laid out in the most violent fashion!)
Realize that these scenarios happen every day – white and black both trying to escape violence and, apparently, it’s not working!
We need to make sure, this doesn’t happen again. If you’re married to Xerox, appreciate his helpfulness, his need for sleep, his need for escape.
If you’re Malcom X, stick to your dream: carry yourself confidently, even if you need social programs to help. One year of help can lead to 60 years of tax collection (it worked for me… Don’t hate me for this part – I’ll get you a better answer tomorrow). Get your gun legally, don’t take the easy criminal way out. Appreciate the beauty of all things!
Both of y’all need is anger management therapy, by the way! But you’re both too proud to get that! That basic nature you have in common! Find a common enemy – say, the IRS – odd friendships form over common enemies. Fight against corruption and urban and suburban decay alike!
When you ask your husband to dry the dishes, but he says “Is too wet“, don’t get angry! The towel is too wet; it’s wet with diamonds and elephant tusks, that are bringing it down. Drop the towel, and lift it up. Then he will do it for you, but do it out of love instead. The universe will reward you for it. Not now, while everyone is screaming!
I have a better solution: stay tuned while the scenario comes together. It won’t be long… I’m ‘a roll!