a CITIZEN JOURNALIST reports from Obama’s America, 44
Last evening, with a bunch of kids playing outside and throngs of neighbors out on their porches or working on their lawns, etc., a cop who lives down the street from me was spotted defiantly carrying a pair of stuffed black trash bags to his garbage can. Not your standard white kitchen garbage bags, mind you. But black bags. As if to say, I stand with that murderous cop up in Missouri. So far, no one in the neighborhood has tossed a Molotov cocktail at his house — though I’m keeping a close eye on this one dude down the block with the “Coexist” bumper sticker on his Scion.
Best to be prudent, I figure — and besides, if he starts getting all looty and such, I’ll finally have the justification to smash the hell out of that ugly blight of a cubist automotive nightmare, which in the end would prove to be a net good for home values around here.
And you can’t really punish me for “automotive profiling” I don’t think. At least, not yet. Right?