Last night I was on the phone to an old friend and we swayed toward a political discussion. Of course, race and cops came into the mix. Here is my defining moment of political madness...
"I am sick and tired of this crap. I am chock full of people vetting all of the racial tensions in the US and concluding it is the cops' fault and not coming up with any actionable plans of change. Is it as big a problem as some would like us to think? What is your solution? Where do cops go wrong? Is it a regional problem? A department problem? What? And I am sick of people throwing political correctness in my face. Pick a name to call yourself and shut up about it. They are no more from Africa than I am from Ireland. They are not African-Americans, they are Americans. They are Americans who happen to be black just like I am an American who is white. WE are Americans. Get over it. If you have dual citizenship, then I will call you an African-American if you demand it. I have no problem with you embracing your heritage but don't throw all this crap in my face and expect me to remember the latest proper coin phrase so as not to offend people. I mean no offense. As a cop, you are hammered about recording the proper color of suspects and victims (ethnic race, skin color and tone) because it is bio-data and used for identification purposes. It has nothing to do with any agenda or racial slam. Fuck."
Well, that about ended the conversation. At least until another day.
Cue the haters. Hate on me, that's OK. I'm not a racist. I think we are walking around tippy toeing and making namby pambies out of our children instead of talking about real issues, we skirt around with "fake nice-ities" because someone might be offended or get their feelers hurt. Suck it up. Cowboy up. However, you phrase...grow some balls. Not little peek-a-boo types, but big hairy balls.
Whew. I wonder if it had an impact on my sleep.
My panties are still in a wad.