The Anatomy of R. Kelly

I’m trying to decide why I should care? I mean child pornography; exploitation and molestation are horrible and should be brought to an end. I believe that anyone who would take advantage of a child, sexually, should either have their nut sack clipped off or their vagina stapled shut; whatever the case may be. That being said, ten years after the fact, why should I care?
Jury selection for the trail of the century, featuring the great R. Kelly is finally underway. I can’t wait. I heard they are gonna put it to music and feature it on MTV just in time for Christmas. Oh, Joy. R. Kelly’s “Trapped in the Courtroom.”

I know I am treating this trail as a joke, but how can I do otherwise. The fact that R. Kelly, who we all know has a sick fetish for pre-pubescent girls, had sex, peed on and videotaped the whole shebang, made me sick, ten years ago. I was like what a perv. Someone should do something about this. His ass should be brought to justice. I don’t care how many, so-called hit songs he can pull out his ass. Now, ten years later, with the teenage girl, at the time, now 23 and claiming it is not her on the tape, what’s the point? Does anyone truly think that the boy is going to see even a lick of jail time on this shit? I don’t think they’ll even consider putting a monitor on his dick that will signal police anytime blood rushes there while in the presences of any child seventeen years old or under. (Hey, that’s a damn good Idea. You heard it here first!)

What gets me is that Kelly’s attorneys are still trying to get the damn case postponed, citing that a recent article in the Chicago Sun-Times has served to poison the minds of any potential juror and thus sabotaging Mr. Kelly’s chance of a fair trial. What the fuck? What is a damn article in a newspaper gonna do that could be worse than Dave Chappelle’s comedy skit where he portraits himself as K. Kelly peeing on his audience. I’m willing to bet not everybody read whatever article the attorney is referring to, but thanks to YouTube, just about everyone has seen that funny video clip. And let’s us not forget the wonderful parody that the Boondocks did on this case. Now that shyt was funny.

Besides, like I said before, It’s been ten years, damn it! Ten fucking Years! What are they waiting for, the girl to be placed on Medicare? Seriously, if it was me I’d want the shit to be over with already. Especially if I were innocent, like this bastard claims to be. Well, if you are innocent, bitch boy, man up and go to trial. Put this shit to rest. You should have taken the shit to court long ago. I for one could have done without the time you spent making that “In the Closet” bullshit.

As you can probably tell, I am in no way a fan of R. Kelly, but even if I was, I would still believe he should be brought to justice for this nasty shit. Then there is the fact that many years ago, Kelly contended that that the tape was faked and someone had superimposed his face onto somebody else’s body. If that were true, that along would have pissed me off and made me want to clear my good name.

Now, keep in mind that the tape has been authenticated beyond a shadow of a doubt, and they can even provide proof that the tape was made in a place that Kelly once owned. So now we go from the tape not being him to the tape being of his brother, who looks like him. What the fuck. Pick a story, nigger, and stick with it! (I’m sorry, I know I promised not to use that word any more, but the shit just seemed to fit in this case.)

Mr. Kelly is a sick ass bitch and you be brought to justice for this crime like any other pedophiles in the world we live in. Anyone who can look at a child and think, “I’d like to hit that”, needs serious help and they can seek that help on an island, with other’s just like them.

In closing, I wonder about the parents of the girl Mr. Kelly is accused of “taking advantage of”. Where are their asses? I for one would be pissed as hell! Shit, I got mad when a one year old bit my nephew; you know this kind of shit would have put me behind bars. But you never hear about this girl’s parents. Wouldn’t you think that they would be outraged to have their child’s name slandered like this? I can understand a child not wanting to face the light of all this drama, but not the parents.

Just how much money do you think it cost to whore out your child to a superstar?

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Oh, and by the way. HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Am I Racist?

Sometimes I wonder if I am a racist. Racism is defined as disliking someone solely based on a prejudice or a stereotype that you believe to hold true about his or her race. Now I have always been an advocate of the fact that everyone has prejudices and thus are prejudice. It is my belief that the main people who say that they are not prejudice are indeed the most prejudice, because we all prejudge others at some point in our lives. It’s human nature. But let me get back to my initial thought process. Am I a racist? The reason I ask the question is because I’m trying to put myself in a different light; if that makes any sense.

I have always considered Sgt. Old Ass Bitch-Face to be racist just because of the fact that he is an old, white bastard, who smokes a cigar. There are other reasons, sure. One of them is the fact that I don’t think he likes black people; however, I don’t know that for a fact. I don’t know who the man associates with at home. Hell, his wife could be black, but I doubt it.

The reality is that when I first came over to work at the station I am currently at, I only saw Sgt. Old Ass interact with two black people. One was a black officer who I had been told had been working the station for over seven years. The way I figured it, you can’t help but interact with someone you’ve been forced to sit side by side with for seven years, even if you don’t like their kind. The other person was a young black girl. She was under his charge, so that didn’t count either, because he was her boss. I later would find out that he never had any problems interacting with black women, period. This, of course, made me think that he liked black women because it was taboo and he was like one of those old slave masters who got their jollies from raping the female specimen of the black race. Isn’t that terrible? The finally reason is because I never felt like the man liked me; a black man. And let’s face it…what’s not to like? I’m adorable, damn it!

So, just this past week I just began to wonder if I was being unfair to Sgt. Bitch-face and if it was I who was truly the racist. After all, I was passing judgment on this man just because of the color of his skin. Well, that and because he’s old enough to have had parents who possibly owned slaves. I mean, just because somebody white doesn’t like me doesn’t make them a racist, does it? And you know what really makes this sad. I also think that most cocky white folks, who wear a police uniform, have racist tendencies. That’s horrible, right? I mean, who does that? Well, I know who does it, but it’s a totally inappropriate way of thinking, right? Am I right? Oh, and let me just say that Sgt. Bitch-Face rarely interacts with anyone, even white police.
When I was going through my police training, one of my trainers was an old, fat ass, white guy. When I first meet him I was like, “Oh shit. Look at this racist bastard.” As it turned out he was the best trainer I had (we normally have three main trainers) and I credit him with a good portion of what makes me such a hell of an officer. Plus, the man didn’t have a racist bone in his body. Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch. I think we all might have a racist bone somewhere in our bodies. Some of ours are just bigger than others. But the fact still remains that I thought the man was gonna be racist for the simple fact that he was white, old, wore a uniform and in this case, fat. How terrible is that?

So, I have searched my soul to find out if I am a racist. I don’t think I am and I’ll tell you why. Now, I’m not going to say it’s “because I have friends that are white”, because it that ain’t the motto of every racist you ever want to meet, I don’t know what is. I just don’t think I am a racist because I am open to interacting and honestly getting to know people of different backgrounds. Just for the record, I do have a diverse grouping of friends; black, white, Hispanic, Asian, gay, straight. All of them offer something to the table that I believe helps me to grow as a person. I have always been drawn to people of other cultures, and I have no idea why. Lord knows that I sometimes believe my sisters to have some of the most flagrant racial tendencies ever. They say things that offend me, because of the very fact that I have such an eclectic gathering of friends and associates.

I also don’t think I am racist because of the fact that I am offended when people make ignorant statements about people of other racist and act as if it’s fact. That shit bothers me. Now, depending on the ignorance level of the individual making the statement, I will sometime challenge their statement and see if we can engage in an intellectual conversation. Trust me when I tell you it is virtually impossible to have an intellectual conversation with an idiot. I don’t care how much education they have.

I took a test this past Sunday, on the internet that asked the question; “Are you a racist?” It was a stupid test, developed by some intellectuals from Harvard. It ran you threw a serious of test where you had to press keys in relationship to facial characterizes (black and white). Then you had to press keys in regard to words that you considered bad or good. Then they placed words under the faces you saw earlier and you had to press keys in relationship to whatever they were asking prior to start the test. It was a time test and they didn’t want you to think, they just wanted you to react. Once the test was complete and my results were tabulated, it was found that I strongly prefer the company of African-American people. I thought this was funny, because the only African-American person I knew was this white guy, from Africa, that I went to college with. He was cool and stuff, but I wouldn’t say that I strongly preferred his company to anyone else’s.

No, in all seriousness, I thought that the results of the test were indeed strange. If you saw me with my small circle of friends you would never come to the conclusion that I strongly preferred the company of people that look like me. You would most likely believe that I preferred the company of people who look like Cocoa Rican. Why? Because the majority of my friends are Hispanic. I don’t know what Imma do if they pass that immigration law. LOL. I kid. I kid. No, for real though. The majority of my friends do have a Hispanic Heritage. Not because these are the people who I seek out, but because these are the people who have always sought out me. Don’t ask me why. I have always been a loner which means that I don’t active attempt to interact with people (work being the exception). That being the case, once I went to Junior High School, it was always someone Hispanic that would gravitate towards me and end up being my friend. This trend continued in my various jobs and even in college. There is just something about me that my Hispanic brothers and sisters like.

Anyway, somehow I managed to get off the subject and go off on a random tangent. So, the question remains, with all of this information that I have given you, am I a racist? I can mention other cases where I have just jumped to the conclusion that someone white didn’t like black people sole because they were white; not because of anything that they said or did. Just because it was something about them that gave me this vibe that said, “Hey, this person is racist.”
Oh, and don’t think for a minute that I believe that just because someone doesn’t like me that they are racist. That is not the case at all.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Hate To See a Grown Man Cry

(Let me just start by saying that this is one long ass post of me just venting. It is poorly written and just me ranting about some bullshit going on at my job. I did not proof it or anything, I just let the words flying, did a spell check and cut and paste. You have been warned.)

Don’t you hate it when people take your kindness for weakness? I believe myself to be one of the nicest people you ever want to meet. Out of uniform, I am very introverted and keep to myself, but in uniform I try to be approachable, friendly and happy go lucky. That being said, the worst thing anyone can do is underestimate my black ass and take my kindness for weakness, because it pisses my ass off. And trust me when I say you don’t want to piss me off. I am not violent, but I compensate in other ways.

The past couple of weeks on the Department have been a bitch. My fellow sergeants have been riding a disconnect and it is getting worst by the day. It all came to a head for me when I had a talk with two of my troops, who were implicated in playing a part in the harassment of one of their fellow officers. One of the two has already gotten in trouble and has been taken off the street. His investigation just came back and I recommended a Supervisor Report, not too harsh, not too lenient (it still has to be approved through the Chief of Police). So, after the first detail, I take them both into the conference room, shut the doors, take out my recorder and start the meet (I tape my meetings so people can’t go back and lie about what I said and nothing is open for misinterpretation). Our meeting last for about an hour and I lay down the law for the last time. I let them know that I don’t think they were involved, but I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t address the issue so they would have a chance to self correct.

One of the officers in particular tries to get me to give a name of the officer in question, whom they are, suppose to be harassing. I tell them both that this is not an official investigation so they are not entitled to a name. It should be enough for me to say what the allegation is that way if they are involved they would stop and if they are not involved then this meeting shouldn’t pertain to them and we just move on (I actually say more than that, but I am trying to keep this as short as possible). The meeting last for almost an hour; running into the next Detail time. I tell them I have to go into the second detail, but if they want to continue to talk me they could meet me by my desk after I came out of detail. One of the officers takes me up on this the other doesn’t.

After the second detail, I take one of the officers outside and we have a nice long talk, off the record (no tape recording). This bastard, who in the initial meeting knows nothing about any officer being harass admits to me that he has not only play a part, but is the main instigator of these events. I maintain my composer, let him know how disappointed I am in his behavior and tell him that this behavior would have to stop or else he would suffer dire consequences from me. He tries to justify his actions saying that he thought he had the type of relationship with the officer that allowed him to play such a childish prank, but I called him out on that lie as well.
Anyway, why we are talking and he is telling me how he is willing to go to the officer and apologize, Sgt. Lupe comes out the side door and tells me I am being summoned over the radio. I get on the radio and ask if someone was trying to reach Alpha Three Twenty. Low and behold, it is my Lieutenant requesting that I come back to the station. I get on the radio and inform him that I was actually already at the station and would come inside in a minute. Me and the troop finish our meeting, he promises that he will no longer play apart in any shenanigans and will just be about work and nothing more. Problem found, solved and all is happy with the world, right? Wrong.

I go inside and my Lieutenant, goofy son of a bitch that he is, asked me why it is that I had a talk with, let’s call him Crawdad, without Sgt., let’s call him Old Ass Bitch-Face. I tell him that I felt no need to have Sgt. Old Ass Bitch-Face sit in on a meeting between me and my troops and that I had taped the meeting to begin with. He tells me that didn’t matter and that technically Officer Crawdad was under Sgt. Old Ass Bitch-Face’s charge while he was working the station. (WHAT THE FUCK). Now I am truly dumbfounded and refuse to have this conversation until the other two parties involved are present to clarify.

He goes and gets Sgt. Old Ass Bitch-Face, who I don’t like to begin with, and Officer Crawdad, while I wait in his officer. Officer Crawdad makes it around the corner first, and it is a tell-tell sign to me that he has done something underhanded when he just stands outside the front of the office and doesn’t come inside until the Lt. and Sgt are with him. Everyone has a sit and I ask Crawdad what was going on. He goes on to inform me how disturbing my little meeting with he and the other officer had been to him and how Harassment is a very serious offense and how he was soooo scared that he was going to get fired and so he had went to the person that that he “believed to be his Sergeant” and ask if his conduct towards anyone could be considered disrespectful in anyway (not a quote, but something to that affect).

I first remind Officer Crawford that our meeting was taped and that I had said nothing that would have lead him to believe that he was being brought up on charges of harassment, nor did I say that he had been mention outright and some other stuff that is not important. Then I turn my attention to the Lt. and Sgt. Old Ass Bitch-Face that although Sgt. Old Ass had been a supervisor for longer than I’d been on the department (is badge is in the 1500 and mine is in the 7600), the reality was that on paper Officer Crawdad was my troop. The reality was that any trouble that Officer Crawdad got into would be handled by me, if Crawdad had to go and sit before the Chief if would be me that would have to go down there with him and that I was under no obligation to inform Sgt Old Ass because it was my job to correct my troop when he was doing wrong. Then a lot of other things were said, and I went out in the field to help Sgt. Lupe out on the Double Homicide that she’d been flagged down on (I will save you the truly gruesome details of what was found inside of the apartment).

A lot of stuff, regarding the mess that is going on between us Sergeants on deep nights is brought up, by Sgt. Lupe, while we are waiting for Homicide detectives, PES and the Medical Examiner to arrive at the location. However, all I can think about is the little incident with the Lt, Sgt and Crawdad. My mind is a swirl with trying to understand what happened that lead to me being called into the station, over the air mind you, by my supervisor (still not mad yet, just confused). I eventual get in contact with the Lt, and let him know that what had occurred disturbed me and I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. I somehow felt disrespected. He tells me to just let it go (Okay, not I am mad).

I get home that morning and instead of going to bed I listen to the recorded meeting. Nope. Nothing said that could have been misconstrued by the officer, plus it was inappropriate for Sgt. Asshole, I mean Old Ass-Bitch-Face to go to the Lt. first instead of coming to me. I make up in my mind to fuck what the Lt. said and have another meeting, this time with Old ass and Crawdad, first thing when I get in. Well, as luck would have it, God was looking out for old ass, because for some reason he didn’t come in to work that night. Lucky for him, because I was gonna give his wrinkled, grumpy ass a stroke. However, I go and find a third watch Sergeant and ask him if he’d be so kind as to sit in on a meeting between me and officer Crawdad.
Once again I inform Officer Crawdad that the meeting would be taped and ask him to clarify what had occurred that lead to me being called into the station, by my supervisor, over the radio. He goes into this spill about how he thought that Sgt. Old Ass was his supervisor and how he was disturbed by our meeting from the previous day and how he was all concerned about being fired and a lot of other bull shit. What the fuck ever.

I let him know how disrespected I felt. How I went back to play the tape and how nowhere on it was it did it even remotely imply that he was anywhere endanger of being fired. I reiterate the fact that I am his supervisor all day long and I have walked him through every point of his IAD investigation and tied to make it as painless as possible for him. I tell him that I didn’t care if Sgt. Old Ass had been a supervisor since the beginning of time, he’s strips held no more authority than mine. I let him know how I wish that Sgt. Old Ass had been present for the meeting, but he was free to tell him the details of it when he returned the following week. I said a lot of things, and gone was my carefree, happy go-lucky, tone. I give him his time to speak again and start spouting off a bunch of bullshit, like I have dumb-fuck, tatted across my forehead. I call him on all his bullshit and let him know that this shit can never occur again. I let him know that it is a vagrant violation of our General Order for him to violate his chain of command the way that he had and I would not tolerate being disrespected like that again.
Well, I’ll be damn if the boy didn’t start to cry. I’m talking, lip quivering, take off his glasses, boo-hooing. How do you make a thirty-year old man, with a gun cry? I was taken aback and got up to comfort him, but I continued to lay down the law. After all was said and done, the other sergeant and I left him in the room to compose himself. I was sorry that I had to make the boy cry, but he needed to be put in check.

Anyway, a few other things happened over the weekend that lead to me writing the following letter to my co-workers:

To my fellow sergeants,

I am using this email to inform you that I am suspending my duties with the bar checks, until further noticed. I made the members of Community Prosecution and the others aware of this in our wrap up meeting this morning. I informed them that I would be passing the torch on to any of you good people who would like to carry on what I started. I think it is a good thing that we are doing, but because of other matters, that in my opinion, are petty, underhanded and somewhat passive aggressive that we have going on here on deep night I’ve decided to focus my attention back to the twenties; at least until we are able to fix the problem that lies deep within our mist. That being said let it also be known that if any of you need me for anything police related, that my services are always available.
I have decided that I will no longer play the game of rookie/senior sergeant. We all have a job to do and that includes being available for both troops and citizens when they call. No more will I be a part of taking a phone call, from anyone, when there are able bodied Sergeants at the front desk that can handle that call. It is unfair to the troops, the citizens and your fellow sergeants for the people staffing the front desk to have to go in search of a sergeant when there is one right in front of them. No more will I jump from supervisor call to supervisor call, when we have another sergeant, who will remain nameless, who talks a good talk, but more often than not will not play an active role and going out into the field to help out his fellow sergeants and troops. No longer will I play apart in the vicious game of he said she said, or any of the other behaviors that I consider to be childish and unprofessional.
For whatever role, if any, that I have played in the slow deterioration of what should be a positive work environment, I apologize. That being said, I reiterate the fact that I am now washing my hands of all of it. I use to think it was the “us against them” mentality that was the problem, but I see now that it is an “us against us” mentality that we are battling. I have seen the enemy and the enemy is us. Well, I don’t want to be the enemy any more.
Peace to you all until we can get back to the business of police work.

I CC a copy of this bad boy to my Lt., because I feel like he is obligated to get involved in all this shit. I am sick of trying to play the fucking peace maker. The repercussion of this letter is still coming down. (I DON’T CARE! I got God on my side.)

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Sin's Of Our Father

Here’s an interesting story for you. It’s a week old, but interesting nonetheless.
So, last week one of my older sisters, let’s call her Dot, had surgery on her rotator cuff (or is it cup). Anyway, as I was going over to visit her I decided to call my moms and see how she was doing and check on my little heart. During the course of our conversation she tell me about what a wonderful day he had in Daycare and how he brought home all his crap and dumped it on her floor. Then she mentioned the thing that pissed me off.

Mom: You know he got bit by one of his classmates, right?
Me: What? He got bitten?
Mom: Yeah, this little girl bit him.
Me: Why is somebody biting my little nephew and what happened to her?
Mom: I don’t know, you’ll have to ask your sister (let call her Bonnie).
Me: Where is Bonnie? Is she home from work yet?
Mom: Yeah, she’s in there.
Me: Okay mom, let me call her and see what is going on. Love you.

So I call my sister and get the story. Apparently this abuse is has been going on with this little girl, let’s call her Martha (and yeah, that’s the little heifer’s real name). My little man has been coming home with all kinds of scratches and crap on his face for a while now. Minor stuff, but still; why the hell is this being allowed to go on? Now I find out that this little bitch done bit my nephew on the neck. What is this child, a vampire? Now, yall know I have posted on human bites before. They are some of the nastiest bites you can get; worst than being bite by a four legged animal. So, I am pissed.

To make things worse, when Bonnie notices that her child has been bitten she ask the Daycare owner who had bit him and she tell him that she is not allowed to say. So, since little man is old enough to tell (thank God), she asks him who had bit him and he say, “Martha”. So, Bonnie stays to try and have a conversation with this girl’s mother, since nothing apparently is happening to the little girl. On and Martha is just a little over one year’s old, but I don’t give a damn! She needs some damn home training. Somebody needs to pop her little ass. She ain’t no dog, so she shouldn’t be biting folks.

But I digress; my sister tries to have a little back and forth with Martha’s mommy, but the woman doesn’t speak English, (yes, Martha is Hispanic) so that went nowhere. So, my sister goes on to tell me how Dot and her kids tells Little man that he should fight back. So he gets in trouble for beating up the little girl, which I don’t agree with either. I don’t want him to be a little sissy, which he isn’t, but I don’t won’t him being a little bully either and I definitely don’t want him to grow up thinking it is okay to hit a woman. Keep in mind that little man is heavy handed, when he play hits me that crap stings (that’s why he knows not to play with his uncle like that). Plus, he doesn’t fight fair. He will pick something up in a minute (which I don’t have a problem with actually, depending on the situation). He also wrestles with my two-hundred and something pound nephew, so he is use to ruff housing. I’m rambling, but in a nutshell, he should be doing what he was taught by his mom to do and that is to tell the teacher and let the adults handle it. The problem is that it is not being handled and Lord knows they don’t want Uncle One Man to roll up into that Daycare. I’ll taser a one year old and then yall will truly be hearing about some police brutality on the news.

Anyway, it gets better. I get over to Dot’s house and I immediately ask them why they are telling little man to fight girls. We want him to make good decisions before he enrolls into our public school system. I don’t want him to be the victim of zero tolerance, kicked into alternative school and getting a secondary education. God help us if his mother tries to home school his ass. She may have her bachelor’s degree, but I swear that I expect that damn thing to spontaneously combust, every time she opens her mouth.

Here’s the kicker, in the course of my conversation with Dot and my Niece, Dee, I find out that now, little man considers Martha his girlfriend. Oh, hell naw! We will not have dysfunctional, abusive relationships going on at the age of two. Not on my watch. I am honestly thinking that someone has put it into this little boy’s head that this is how relationship’s work. Keep in mind, that my nephew is very perceptive. I think he’s a child prodigy myself (but I’m bias).
So, a couple of days later I’m over to my mom’s and jokingly ask who has been teaching little man that it is okay to hit in a relationship. Do you know that I found out that his dad, God rest his soul, was abusive. Not only did I find out that he slapped my little sister, once,which pissed me off because she didn’t tell her police officer brother. Plus, my sisters do not get beat up by men. It is not in them. They are not that kind of women. They fight the hell back. It turned out that her and my step-father, when he found out, put him in check. However, he use to beat the hell out of his next baby momma. Yeah, little man’s daddy was a hoe. Little man, at the mere age of two, already has a little brother and sister, by two different women and I think about four of five older siblings (ain’t that some shit).

Bonnie goes on to tell me how when little man was just a little over a year old he came home, after spending a day with his dad and skank girl, and attempts to put her in a head lock. She promptly calls daddy and ask him to please not beat up his girlfriend in front of her child. Ain’t that something? Well, this negative male influence died in a car accident before little man turned two years old, but I kind of wonder what damage he’s done to my little man’s impressionable psyche.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

(I typed this quickly before heading off to work. Sorry, if it is a tends to ramble. Also sorry I could not find a more recent picture of little man.)