Sense and Sensibility is not only a great work of English Literature, it’s also supposed to be the strongest quality of all good law enforcement officers. Apparently, nobody in the Carolina locality I was driving in last night got the memo.
As a club member in good standing, I am one of those Negroes that drive around with his brights on because the driver side low beam done went out and my money is funny. I defy any mofo to challenge me on this issue.
Ain’t nobody gonna tell me nothin.’My car is my momma’s name but I makes the payments. What? Her credit is better than mine is. Hell. You betta not say nothin.’ Anyway, the Po Po turns around and runs up on me like a runaway slave. I HATE THAT S***, Y’all hear me. I truly hated it, with two snaps up, honey. My name ain’t Kunta Kinte. And, it sho’ ain’t what my license say.
I mumbled a prayer to the one who is able to keep us from falling. “Father, I stretch my hands to thee. No other help I know. If you don’t pull this cop off me, into a jail cell shall I go.”
The driving while black merry-go-round is as tired as O.J. Simpson’s guardian angel. My doctor won’t permit me to discuss the number of times I’ve been stopped for ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!! Ain’t no dead white woman at my crib and I don’t drive a white bronco. Y’all feel me?
He done hung behind me for a little bit, enough to run my plate and move the Hell on. What he doin back there? Is he solving a crossword puzzle or flirting with the dispatcher. Eric Benet lost interest in Halle Berry quicker than this.
The fool up ahead don’t recognize the Po Po and is stopping waaaaay beyond the white line at every red light. “God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, keep the fool ahead of me forever behind the white line I pray.”
Too late.
I’m off the hook.
Skeptical Brotha 
