Mugs, Drugs, Slugs, and Thugs

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If  it wasn’t for the media, I would be guilty of ignorant stereotyping.  If you only see one segment of a minority again and again, you’ll probably just assume “they” are all like that.

On weekends, I’m a part-time Doorman for the large apartment building in which I lived for 35 years.  It’s actually kind of fun and I get to see most of our residents whom I like a lot.  Many of them are Black and most have children.

Every Sunday morning, many of these families go to church and I’m always impressed with how they look and act.  The elevators open and out walk well-dressed, polite children accompanied by their parents.

“Good morning, Good morning, Mr. Frank, Good morning, beautiful day,” they pleasantly say. The kids rarely need to be prompted to say, “Thank you” if I open the door or compliment them on what they’re wearing. It reminds me of the Obama family when they’re pictured together.  If  I’m not on my guard, I could be pleasantly lulled into thinking all Black folks are like this.

But thank goodness for the media!  At least once a week they flash the face of some low-life loser who happens to be Black.  And if I need any help remembering that all Black folk aren’t like the ones around me every weekend, on comes Maury Povitch and the screen is filled with some gangsta-wannabe who’s pollinating his neighborhood like a brain-damaged bee.

What do all these Black people have in common?  Well…..uh, they’re all Black. But then again, so are my Cats.

5 Responses to “Mugs, Drugs, Slugs, and Thugs”

  1. Brenda says:

    If I were you, Paolo, I wouldn’t turn my back on those cats!!

    I warn my son to be careful because some people might not understand him because he speaks proper English.

    I also must tell him to be careful when he tells people his father is and always has raised him & taken care of him because they will think he’s a liar. Don’t even mention the fact he has a college degree and works. Lordy, they’d never believe him.

    I often point out to him that he shouldn’t enjoy swimming, biking, country music, hockey, and especially school. When he looks at me in dazed confusion, I quietly point to his skin. He slowly nods his head as if to say “Oh, yes. How could I forget?” and we both burst out laughing.

  2. Frank Paolo says:

    Thanks, Brenda. You’re the best.

  3. Joe belle-Isle says:

    There are more than two races in this country and a lot of people don’t know that NYC was built in part by black slaves from Africa. I cracked a joke last night about Franks black cats and it was evidently politely removed because Frank know his readers and freinds and what I meant as a joke -after re-reading Brenda’s comment, could have been taken the wrong way.
    In large cities it appears to me that there IS a disproportionate amount of black on black crime. In the Indian bayou country where I lived for a while-and it was whites by invitation only as you had to know somebody- the people were a mix of runaway slaves, white cajuns, and Indian. A beautiful olive skinned girl explained to me they were 1/4 white, 1/4 black, and 3/4 Indian. They were rejected harshly by the national get togetheres of full blooded Indians. It was almost tribal with tons of kids and everybody living along one road along the small river, kids could spend their days together and nights at whomevers house they were at, givin a mother a break. And NOBODY could come through there without standing out.
    Right now here it seems like child killing is a white on white crime. That’s escalating way too rapidly.
    Another freind of mines daughter married a Black man when she was young and their girls, his grandkids, are full grown and drop dead georgious. Another freind- about 6’6″ tall we always called “Pineapple,” for a knickname because he looked Hawaiian. His Japanese Mom had married a strapping tall young midwesterner and Pineaple was -talked- like a midwestern lumberjack. Handsome, intelligent, making good money and and that beautiful olive skin, and 21. These “Mixed breeds” the people from the days of segregation feared didn’t turn out to be people not wanted by any racial group as predicted, but people wanted by all the racial groups.
    But in my experience and observations what is really important is that parents don’t hate each other, if they just don’t get along being that way and using a kid to hurt the other person really hurts a kid more than race or religion ever could have if it ever did.
    Parents have to set the rules and have the childs respect where the kid listens before they get into Jr. High or High school because nothing messes a kid up worse than not being secure in him or herself to make good decisions when tossed against the peer pressure of other kids who they look up to who tell them school is a waste of time and it’s fun to disrespect people. You can’t get a job no-matter what so you may as well dropout. When my wifes daughter was killed riding with a member of a street gang at 18 she left 2 babies, and the State of Florida gave parental rights to the blood father who had statutorily raped a 13 yr old and then again when she was 14 and WAS IN PRISON-and he gave my wifes kids to a turd non involved paternal grandma and a childmolester and yeas the worst happenned. I got to influence the one weekend a month or every three weeks and 2 weeks in the summer.
    I was the only person who EVER punished them when they were acting out and somehow developed a relationship where out of all the adults giving those poor kids everything they wanted- they loved besides my wife of course. And I helped guide them through the high school years.
    I don’t think color has anywhere near as much if anything to do with the way a kid comes out. It’s being talked to intelligently durring the early teen years by people they learned to respect when they were little.
    But with increased population comes increased and bolder crimes and the old folks- like I’m getting to be- are perfect targets. So here’s a tip on how to protect yourself and your kids- WASP SPRAY-not pepper spray where the attacker has to be close. Wasp spray can spray an aimed spray 20 to 30 feet and blinds the attacker until he gets an anidote at an emergency room.

  4. Frank Paolo says:

    You are ALWAYS a trip, Mr. Joe! As I said, it was a pleasure meeting Joann and you. And thank you for being understanding about that comment. The trouble is, there’s no font for humor or sarcasm. (God knows I’m not trying to clean up your act – that would be hopeless!)

    BTW: “A beautiful olive skinned girl explained to me they were 1/4 white, 1/4 black, and 3/4 Indian.”

    I think I went out with that lady! Wasn’t she a dancer at the Mirage?

  5. Joe belle-Isle says:

    She was a trip and a girl her age (Old enough to get married) was good freind and we’d sit and watch the sunset over the bayou. But those indian girls were raised on Dad’s shrimpboat-Lafitte skiffs over there that came home at night- were better seamen than the guys who came down and thought they were learning stuff about the ocean on oilfield boats. It was neat the way they talked natural around me. They would start a sentence in English and slip into French with some creole mixed in. So they can have 5/4ths make a whole if they want to. The one or two times I pointed out a sign was spelled wrong they would tell me maybe where your from, but it’s the right way to spell it here. When their parents had gone to school they would get paddled for speaking French, and at home paddled for speaking English. Michelle was her name, with the most beautifull set of natural life preservers a sailor could have. Everybody knew I loved Michelle, but then again so did everyone else.
    With all the oilfield boats tied up across the riverlike bayou and all the shrimpboats tied up on our side the sewage and oil leaked over and pumped over the side made the waterway a stinking sludgepot no-one would go in. When a new oilboat would tie up accross from our side the girls would flash the oilboats crew and strut their stuff and yell “Cmon and get it you woosies!”Three or four of those guys would jump in and swim over and get coverred with slime just in time to see the girls disappear. And have to swim back. That’s a entire different languaged country inside the United States. There were 2 bars and they were for gambling and fighting and maybe a killing once in a while. One guy had been a winner at pool and found runn over with tire tracks, and re-run over with propeller tracks all over his body. But if you just wanted a beer and someone to talk to you went to the grocery store and they had chairs set out for that purpose- no fighting in the grocery store.

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