Wednesday, July 29, 2009

White Devils!


Do you know who I am? Seriously, I live here. I own this peace, bitch. This is my house. That I own. And yet you're here, arresting me.

This is Cambridge, not Boston. We got MIT, Harvard, The Coop, T.T. The Bears, hell we got more used bookstores than anywhere in the world. I can understand being a racist cop over in Boston. I can see it -- growing in Southie, hating the blacks living just below you in Roxbury, joining the force to help channel your building rage, beat up a few innocent black teenagers so you won't hit the wife -- I get it. But, bitches, we're on the other side of the Charles River! Cambridge cops eat falafel. They donate to NPR. Cambridge cops write poetry.

I bet this shit doesn't happen to other 'rock star' professors
teaching over here in the greater Boston area. I mean, you don't hear that Elie Wiesel got pinched for shoplifting. Noam Chomsky isn't pulled over for a 'broken tail light' and beaten about the face and neck with a club. Spike Lee isn't... well, he's a bad example. He's probably takes an exorbitant amount of shit from the cops. Hell, I've even slapped that tiny bitch outside the JFK school of government for torturing me with "Girl 6", but that's not the point.

But just look at me. I teach at Harvard. University. I ain't no shitbird associate professor teaching those cro-mag hockey-scholarships at Boston College or Northeastern. Bitch, I teach in the big leagues. It don't get more crunk than Harvard. And I got cred. I was listed in Time magazine's "25 most influential people" in 1997. (Though
Don Imus was listed as well.) I do not break into people's houses, let alone mine.

But you, a Cambridge cop, saw me and thought -- here's a mid-50s professorial-type with a polo shirt and tiny glasses and he is forcing a door down so he can get inside, steal everything in sight... so he can buy crack and the latest Doris Kearns Goodwin treatise on Lincoln. Shit, beatch, get transferred to over to the Boston police, where you belong, you racist pig.

Now where's my phone call? You know I'm callin' Obama, cracker! Your ass is gonna be transferred to Mattapan.



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