Is It Just Me?

Sometimes I have to wonder if the world doesn’t think we are crazy.

OK. Let me be fair. Perhaps the collective “we” should be narrowed from “us, everywhere in the US” to “us, here in Chicago”.

I won’t speak to things I do not know.

I know this, though. Sometimes, Black folk here in Chicago must make extra terrestrials shake their heads and think about invading somewhere else. Because it’s obvious Earth already has its fair share of aliens.

Case in point: earlier this month, Black radio ran ads encouraging people to send their kids to school. OK, I admit it’s bad, but I am laughing as obviously semi-literate, slang slinging personalities are pitching education.

“Thanks for listening to WFUK. Fun Usurps Knowledge, ya’ll. We just wanna reminds ya’ll the first day of school this year is the day afta Labor Day, just like the past twenny years, and ya’ll should think about showin’ up. OK, now let’s here some of that Immature Juc. This is his latest, ‘F**k School, Ya’ll!’ live on FUK radio!”

Then the so-called Black leaders (ya’ll knew this was coming, right?) have to get in the mix. They descend from their exclusive neighborhoods to let us all know the importance of going to school. They have an action plan.

“We are going to march! We are going to demonstrate! We are going to shut the city down, if need be! Because school is important! Public education in crumbing inner city schools is necessary, and our kids deserve it. Excuse me; I have to go bully the principal of one of the city’s five good schools to let my kids in. I don’t want them going to school with ya’ll heathen asses…”

Then they, too, get on Black radio.

“Wassup ya’ll! This is Dunno Nuttin on WFUK radio. We have one of our esteemed leaders here, ya’ll. Here to tell ya’ll that this year, Black men will come out of hiding to take kids to school.”

“This is the Right Reverend Bishop Chickenwing. This year, we are calling on Black men to escort kids to school on the first day. Trust me, brothas, we won’t ask you to do anything else ‘til Christmas, Mother’s Day and Easter. In fact, Dunno, our plan is to not necessarily have the brothas WALK the children to school, just to lean out of whatever window they are near and wave to them as they walk by…If enough Black men stand up, and realize the power of waving, we could turn this country on its ear tomorrow…”

“I hear ya, Rev. I mean, people keep griping about how Black men need to raise they kids, and I tell ‘em…it’s really about the wave.”

“Indeed, brotha. How old is your intern back there?”

Somehow, the backbone of this community, its women, never gets consulted about these plans. That’s funny. They know a scam when they see one. After all, they got pregnant by two different idiots in as many years and were left holding the bag. Lord knows I take Black women to task when I think they are wrong, but I call a spade a spade: in far too many households, Mom alone is juggling her workday with getting Jamariquan and Shayshay to school on time that first day. We all know that school is cheaper than day care, and lunch is free. The safety in the numbers of the school is better than the summer afternoons the kids are sneaking outside before she gets home from work. Neither of their Daddies is willing to watch them for more than the thirty seconds there is a commercial on during the game.

Now, the moms that don’t work are hustling Ricardore and Jamisha out the door so they can enjoy their morning forty in peace. Once buzzed, they will talk about the siddity broads down the block who have the nerve to look down on them just because they don’t work. Everybody knows them heffas are jealous they can’t get their groove on with Broke Ray Ray mid day like the stay at home, state supported moms can. Keep it real. Moms of all stripes and types are getting those kids out the door to school on day one, and would opt for year round schooling if it were put on the table.

So on that first day, the kids are out the door, headed down rough streets to their first day, Mom pushing them across the street, cel glued to her ear, skirt a size too small causing at least one man to fall from his wave perch. Bishop Chickenwing snoozes while the intern babe rolls out of a hotel bed. She has to get her ten year old off to school. Bishop's kids will be on the private school bus, so no walk'n'wave for them. Other men are leaning out of windows and waving like crazy. Overhead, signs featuring a cute little boy saying “Don’t shoot! I want to grow up!” paint the background. It is a known fact that gang shooting in Chicago is almost nonexistent because the thugs have taken to reading these signs before blasting their enemies. Unfortunately, this has resulted in the streets being littered with bodies with caved in skulls. After reading the signs, the thugs turned their pistols into clubs and began bludgeoning each other to death. The Right Reverend Chickenwing is now protesting the city should hire Black businesses to pick up the bodies and roll them to the side of the road. Instead, the Mexicans are doing it. The richest people in the Black community (not the dope dealers; the morticians) sit back and smile. Progress indeed is a beautiful thing.

When the aliens come, they won’t be here long. They ain’t takin’ nary a one of us back with them, neither.