How to Handle Cambridge Cops

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Now I wasn’t there, so let me have said up front I don’t know the facts surrounding the arrest of Henry Louis Gates Jr. But I do know firsthand that cops –on occasion- lie.

Still, I’m not here to judge -I’m simply weighing in with some helpful tips so we can avoid these circumstances in the future.

#1) Don’t Be Black and in Cambridge: I’m not saying you can’t be black or in Cambridge ... I’m just saying you shouldn’t be both at the same time.

#2) If You Can’t Avoid Being Simultaneously Black and in Cambridge, Work a Career-Oriented Lie: You know, like tell the cops you’re really a white chimney sweep on your way home from work. (An Asian chimney sweep is also acceptable, but be prepared to answer a lot of rapid-fire algebra questions.)

#3) Convince the Police You Are Not in Cambridge At All: Quickly erect a scale replica of the Eiffel Tower or the Sphinx, and start taking snapshots.

-With sensitivity, a heightened awareness and a little planning, we can continue in the racial harmony we've grown accustomed to over the past several hundred years.

In a Nutshell

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Being a smoldering highly-desired ripped physical specimen such as myself has drawbacks, and people tend to assume I’m, you know, all brawn and no brains.

I can hardly fault them: an Adonis-like physique such as mine might suggest I spend far more time in the gym than “cracking the books.” This misconception has plagued me my entire life, and all throughout the 80's and 90’s I’ve had to beat up Billy Zabka, like, fifty times.

Well I’m tired of beating up Billy Zabka. And at this point I’m unable to guarantee Bily Zabka’s safety the next time he screws with me in the locker room -or tries to mess up my wife Terri’s mind with his twisted macho crap. (Do you hear me Billy Zabka? If I hear one more cheap knockoff of Kenny Loggins' “Danger Zone,” you’re a dead man.)

So I need some intellectual “credentials” to prove I’m not just Terri’s hot, chiseled boy-toy dripping with manliness -and that’s why I’ve just enrolled for my online triple degree in Criminal Justice, Pulmonary Surgery and Psychiatry.

“Honey,” I argued. “It’s for us.”

“Us?” she demanded.

“Well excuse me. I think $1,100 of your hard-earned money is well worth our continued marital bliss.”

“But these things are rip offs!” she screamed.

“This one isn’t. I specifically asked the woman on the phone if it was a rip off. She said it wasn't."

As her eyes roll, I snort.

"Jesus Christ, I didn't order a Nordic Track."

World Trade Organization Rejects "World Trade Foundation" Facelift

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Coming Up for Air

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CNN is ablaze with stories regarding the Nomura Jellyfish, a 450 pound six foot long creature poised to invade the Sea of Japan.

And what made the Japanese -the ferocious Kamikaze crazies- become so fearful they wont even stick a big toe in their own ocean?

I, speaking for all of us, blame the Republicans.

The Republicans are always getting in the way of scientific progress. “We shouldn’t clone,” they whimper and sob into their cognac sifters. “Cloning is the equivalent of playing God.”

Well why shouldn't poor people be able to play God too? I would love to play God (as long as I can be the racecar, and don’t have to be the Banker).

With slight little tweaks of DNA, we could counter the onslaught of Nomura Jellyfish with wave after wave of Peanut Butterfish and tenacious Whitebread Octopi. Get some already-existing Swordfish to cut the diagonal, and pow we're done: like WWII, America has once again rescued Japan from certain destruction.

-We could even develop an arthropod that takes the crusts off!

Revolting

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In May of 2007, Paris Hilton was sentenced to 45 days in jail only to be released after serving 50 hours. After much public outcry and drama, she was returned –ultimately serving a total of 23 days.

And admittedly I’d already been a Paris hater for years. It started with “The Simple Life” -a FOX Network reality show starring her and some other similarly vapid frosted flake I can’t remember, explicitly engineered to ridicule and humiliate the American working class.

That said, let’s skip ahead to a week ago. I had to renew my expiring driver’s license –including a CDL which cost me a month of intensive training and roughly $4,500.

While relieved it wasn’t the four hour ordeal I’ve grown to expect from the DMV it was all for nothing anyway: despite having no criminal record at all, my still-valid license, birth certificate copy, SS card, apartment lease, car title, marriage license -and my legally-verifyable wife Terri standing right beside me- the California DMV "could not help."

-My Birth Certificate wasn’t certified. Born in Chicago, my certified Birth Certificate would have to be attained via Illinois ... Even if I spent a fortune it would take a week.

I was told “tough luck,” and subsequently have no legal identification or driver's license –and that $4,500 CDL potential source of income? Bye-bye. I have to take written tests, driving tests -everything all over again.

Well I apparently went to the wrong DMV altogether: according to TMV [story linked here], in Santa Monica it was prearranged for Paris Hilton -criminal record and Probation in tow- not to wait in any lines at all, take five photos, and all employees were ordered to turn their cellphones off so no other photos got leaked. All this was done during regular business hours, and right in front of clearly less-important people such as ourselves.

As far as DMVs go, Santa Monica appears so uncharacteristically accommodating I think maybe I’ll provide a few links to the relevant agencies. What a fine example! They should be contacted so their unique Customer Service insights be shared, and we can enjoy the same treatment at all DMVs across this Great Nation:



The Santa Monica Department of Motor Vehicles
2235 Colorado Avenue
Santa Monica, 90404
(800)777-0133


Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger
California State Capitol Building
Sacramento, CA 95814
Phone: 916-445-2841
Fax: 916-445-4633
email

Madonna Stage Collapse Kills McMahon, Fawcett, Jackson, Mayes, McNair, Cronkite, Billings Couple

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Would you people stop dying for like five minutes
so I can get organized for Christ’s sake!?

Sonia Sotomayor, Put Down the Chunky Monkey and Step Away from the Refrigerator

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Oh come on -you're all thinking it.

Picture: the Bailiff calls “All rise,” and here she comes in flip flops -the usual schlop schlop schlop sounds drowned out in the clicketty-clackitty of hippopotamus toenails spilling over to grip the marble floor (in case gravity spontaneously reversed itself).

Approaching “The Bench,” she pushes yesterday’s cellophane wrappers and donut boxes off of her desk -in a single swipe- at the bailiff.

"File those, asshole" she demands, and punches in an eight digit combination on her government-issued briefcase to procure the sole item enclosed: a George Foreman Grill.

Belching contentedly, she then skims a jelly-stained copy of a Row v. Wade deposition while picking her teeth with a still-smoking rib from yesterday's losing prosecuting attorney -a Pfizer rep that smelled vaguely of Old Spice and barbeque sauce.

Look, I’m sure whatever the Supreme Court does is very, very important from time-to-time: I don’t want to turn on C-SPAN only to see out-of-fuel helicopters crashing due to misjudged close-up shot distances.

And I’m as “Progressive” and “Enlightened” as anybody regarding chicks wanting do a dude's work: as long as you only make 70% of the pay, hey, knock yourself out.

-But unlike American Idol, this isn't based on weight: the Senate isn't doing her any favors by mincing about the seemingly-taboo issue of her immense, galactic-scale girth. What if, for instance, she’s in Tokyo and innocuously wants to go to the beach?

Those panic-prone Japanese might call Mothra!