From the Safety of My White, Wealthy, Soccer-Mom Infested Neighborhood

Dear Readers,

Trust me I know, I FREAKIN KNOW that my reputation precedes me. Everyone in my entire life has always called me a sort of a “bad boy”. From when I was ruling the playground to when I was beating up kids who didn’t laugh at every joke I made. I have always been on the wrong side of the law. And its true. I am a bad boy. A real bad boy. I am a rough, toughin, REAL cowboy from Arizona who don’t take shit from nobody. A rebel without a cause.  A soldier without an army. A rapper without Pepsi contract.

"For Those Who Think Young! Pepsi One!"

Now I am sure that many of you probably think this friggin' kid has a rap sheet longer than the receipts at CVS, but you might actually be surprised to hear that I am clean as whistle.  As much as I would like to admit that it was my cunning and guile that got me out of these situations, I would be lying like  the housewife who said that this was only her 2nd martini of the day and that the dog was the one that ate all the Ice Cream Sandwiches.

“ If doesn’t ruin their marriage, my poops from this will!”

In fact most of the time I have interacted with the police, I immediately become a stumbling ape who has the energy and focus of a crack addict. You didn’t ask for a witty anecdote officer? Well how rude of me! I will tell another sloppy, poorly crafted story to patch things up between us.

On that note! 

Let me share a few story with you so you can catch my drift of how shocking it is that I am not behind bars.

I am not sure how many of you have actually talked to police while intoxicated but it is truly an artform. There are few people in this world that can stand up to the scrutiny and the intimidation.  The second the police makes ocular contact with your body they are evaluating you to make sure your eyes maintain their focus, that your feet are rooted strong into the ground, and that every word you say is spoken with articulation. Even the most prepared individual can seem suspicious with a slight mishap.

I have yet to master that artform.

This brings me to one of favorite past times in Flagstaff: chucking beer bottles at the train. There isn’t a lot of logic to this. In fact that is mostly the appeal of it. Hearing the crash of the bottle on the moving train was the ultimate thrill of rebellion against what I like to call “ the man.”

Girlfriend break up with you? Toss a bottle. Found out your friend is slightly taller than you? Toss a bottle. Super Herpes? Toss a fucking bottle.

The benefit of breaking beer bottles against the train is that you get to drink the beer in addition to the senseless destruction. It really is a win win. In fact the only detriment to this activity is that its highly illegal.  Its so illegal that I am sure that the law has to go back to the days where everyone wore cowboy hats,and it took 20 years to cross the country. Odds are if you looked it up in one of those quirky law books from the 1800s, it would probably come with a punishment of shaving 10 lice-infested kids or talking to someone named Peter for more than 10 minutes.

               " Is there a playground or a school 100 yards from here?"

Well one night when I needed to get rid of a few Miller High Life’s, Johnny Law came to pay me a visit. I had just finished my last beer so I lobbed it high so it could land on the top of the train to create a spectacular shatter. This is by far the best shatter of them all because it makes you feel athletic. Which only happens for me when someone asks me to fit into a small crack.

"Where do the Americans get their spirit?!"

I threw it high and hard. The very nanosecond that my molecules from my fingers left the molecules from the clear glass bottle, a police car’s lights went on.

Now there are a few ways cops approach you, but I for some reason have always had the micropenis/better than you approach.

The police came over and said “ pretty good throw kid”

“ Thanks” I stupidly mumbled out of my mouth not thinking that even that was admitting guilt.

“ You think this is funny? You could have derailed a train and killed everyone on board. I should take you to jail right now”

I hesitated because 1) I was trying to see if he didn’t understand how trains, bottles, or physics work or he was just trying to fuck with me and 2) I was a little drunk and had no idea what to say.

“I didn’t know that I wasn’t allowed”

Are you fucking me? That was what I came up with?  That’s like eating all of the Starbursts in a bag except for the yellow ones and then saying you didn’t know the yellow ones were bad.

Fucking monsters.

It was one of the moments that you think about for 8 years from now. Then every time you do think about it, you’re forced to scream “FUCK ME I AM TERRIBLE” while hitting your head in hopes that the bad memory is shoved out.

Please tell me that is relatable.

The fucking unbelievable part you ask? It fucking worked.

“Well yeah you could have done a lot of damage! Now I want to see you pick up every last piece of glass around here and dispose of it properly!”

Fucking boner sniffer man. Totally ruining my vibe. ALL the glass? What a prick.

.

Now most of you hear that story and think that I was lucky, that I got a nice cop, but the truth is much more uncomfortable and way less fun. It is a truth that has caused many of us to avoid the topic, refuse to click on articles, and avoid Facebook like its plague. It was because I was a white man in a patagonia jacket.

That’s right, here comes the white guilt.

I have done some of the stupidest things you have ever heard. Things that could have gotten me locked away for years and yet... I have a clean record.

It’s not like I didn’t get caught. I got caught throwing a beer bottle at a moving train. That officer could have had a reasonable suspicion that I was throwing a molotov cocktail and was committing some casual terrorism. He could have shot me on the spot and there are people in this country that would have said Hero.

No one hearing the story would say that I was innocent, but no one would also say I deserved to die.

Michael Brown was not an innocent kid, but he didn’t deserve to be shot and killed. Neither did a 12- year old boy from Cleveland whose biggest concerns were cooties and quicksand and thought it would be fun idea to bring an airsoft gun to a playground.  Neither did Trayvon Martin who was carrying the dangerous weapon of Skittles and black skin. Neither do any of the young black males that will be killed by the police every 28 hours that passes by from now until we actually do something about this.

In the wake of these tragedies, many Americans are forced to ask themselves the truly difficult question of how do we stop this?

It’s not an easy answer. If the answer was obvious or simple or lacked complexity then we would have done it ages ago.

The answer is not in Ferguson. The answer is not tipping over cop cars, it is not by chaining yourself to a park bench, and its not by standing out in the cold screaming at the government for their bullshit “due process.”

The reason why is because at the end of the day, it wasn’t the police that let Darren Wilson free, nor was it Obama,  or the mayor, or even the Illuminati. It was a Grand Jury. A jury of our peers.  It was us.

The problem is not them, its us. We The People granted impunity. We The People said that it was okay for a police to kill a teenager because he could have been more dangerous than he actually was.

These events have gripped the nation and forced everyone to pay attention. Yet at my work today (a workplace filled with only old white people), there was not one mention of the events in Ferguson. Individuals rather talk about how windy the weather is, or how they are going to do nothing this year for Thanksgiving , or how Karen down the hall doesn’t know how to send an email attachment.

Get your shit together Karen, its 2014. If you ain’t sending nudes on Snapchat, then you are never catching up.

“Skin for Skin!”

That’s the uncomfortable part that we all avoid. It is difficult to talk about such contentious issues that can cause such unease. We are told not to even bring it up at an early age because it is hard. It makes us feel uncomfortable.  Maybe you’re afraid to speak up because you won’t seem like the smartest person on the issue. Maybe you’re afraid that people will think that you care about issues and won’t be any fun. Maybe you’re afraid because you will be wrong and you'll have to change.

Those are all fears that I have felt. It’s hard to be that vulnerable. Silence or talking about the weather is easier.

None of my co-workers will be shot by the police. The injustice is not happening to them. They can sit back their entire lives, keep their mouths shut, and they will not penalized in any way shape or form. But that’s not how real change happens. We need them to come on board. Who knows? They might be on the jury one day. They might be on a jury in 28 hours.

Real change happens by keeping the conversation alive.

Zimmerman didn’t kill Trayvon, the Olympics did. The Weather Channel killed Trayvon Martin. The Election killed Trayvon Martin. Hell Fucking Kim Kardashian’s butt killed Trayvon Martin. It is so easy to fall back into easy conversation and talk about things that will not challenge anyone’s line of thinking. I am guilty of it as well and will probably continue to move onto topics such as the ever enthralling discussion of whether or not Karen will ever get off of her fat ass and actually do something for this company.

Thanksgiving is coming up in a couple of days and I am sure Ferguson will come up at many dinner tables and I am sure that at many of those tables the conversation will move on faster than it came. It might not hang around long enough for many of you to voice your opinion on the matter. It’s not a clear cut issue. But complexity doesn’t have to vice. Police need to have the ability to protect themselves, but the numbers are hard to fight.

1 in 3 black men will go to prison in their lifetime.

59% of drug related prisoners are African American.

70% of school related arrests are either black or hispanic

Black males are 4 times more likely to be searched during a traffic stop than white males

These numbers have only grown in their gap and become much more frightening. The way we fight this is not by protesting in Ferguson, or signing an online petition, but fundamentally changing people’s perception of what is not okay in today’s society. How do we do that? Through political bumperstickers? Hashtags? Fuck no. You have the best chance of getting through to the people in your life. Not a politician, not a protester, not a grand jury. You can touch the people around you. That is how true, meaningful change occurs.

Now if you truly believe that there is not a problem with the judicial system and that this issue is not important. Then I can respect that.  Stay silent and move onto something else. I won't think anything of it.

But if you remain quiet because you think you will say something stupid, or that it won’t be the most fun conversation in the world, or even worse that you might be wrong about what you think. Then Jesus, I don’t even want to know you.

Live Deliberately

John Danger Kelly