fragile

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

I'm not going to write all the details, because it would take too long.

But a gardener at the university pulled a crappy trick on me. He lied to the campus police and said Porkchop bit him yesterday. We were the only ones at the pond when he called them, so I have no witnesses that it didn't happen.

He approached Pork without my permission, behaved in a startling and alarming manner, and Porky chomped the AIR, in front of the guy's hand, to warn him away.

He threatened to kill Porky.

All I said, besides an apology and an explaination for Porky's behavior, was, "please, don't do this," as the guy began cursing, yelling at and threatening me.

Then, he called the police.

And I left campus.

Today, I went back, alone, to collect eggs. He called the police on me AGAIN!

I'd called his supervisor, the minute I'd gotten home the first day. I explained what had happened, how the man treated me, everything. The manager assured me I could still go to the pond: no problem. I assured the mgr. I would never speak to the gardener again, and would keep Porkchop away from him. I was assured there was no problem.

So, here I stood, with an infantile, arrogant cop, with very limited comprehension, copping an attitude, arms crossed over his chest, trying to provoke me and trying to insinuate that I'm crazy.

I mean, this guy was STUPID!

And accusatory, foul mouthed, abusive, rude and....STUPID!

I spoke calmly and reasonably. I finally got him to see who I am. In fact, I got him to believe me.

Fortunately, as the cop and I were talking, the gardener charged up to us. As he approached, screaming, flapping his arms and cursing hyterically, I quietly told the cop, we can continue our conversation later, after he leaves.

The gardener made a total ass of himself. I didn't even look in his direction. I didn't respond to the provocations. I didn't refute his lies and accusations. To look at me, you wouldn't know a gardener was pitching a tantrum anywhere in my vicinity.

Which worked completely in my favor.

That pimple faced bastard cop used EVERY piece of info he had about me to twist into proof that I'm unbalanced: My work at KUNM, my work at Food Not Bombs, my clothing, my age, my scooter, my gender, my income level, my disability...even my RACE! He assumed, of course, that I'm white. He's Hispanic...I use the word intentionally...see previous posts on the subject. The gardener was Hispanic, too. Case closed: Good ol' boys' club.

I never lost my cool, raised my voice, etc.

I stated my case logically and calmly. SOMEHOW, I kept the cop from escalating.

He was a PIG. Sincerely. A pig.

I went to Smith's, bought some big tubs of vanilla yogurt, a 2lb block of sharp cheddar and a bottle of generic soda.

I came home, ate 3 tablespoons of yogurt, took a shower, dressed and left th house. I did not want to be alone at home, feeling like dog crap on someone's shoe.

So, I went to KUNM, four hours early, to start writing my commentary. I not only wrote it, I edited it and it aired this evening.

I was too tired to send it to myself by email, so I could copy it here. I'll do that on SUnday, when I return for Volunteer classes.

When I got to the station, Marcos Martinez, program mgr., and I had a fun conversation about NM politics outside.

I went upstairs to intelligent, creative, progressive people, all of whom greeted me cheerfully, actually glad to see me.

And, when I checked the refrigerator for any leftovers from last week's fundraiser, I also found a few sacks of groceries, with my name written on them.

I wrote the commentary basically in 2 drafts. I recorded it easily, edited it quickly, and had it ready for air.

Renee, the news director, really liked it. Marcos previewed it and giggled.

It's about prejudice. It's about my scooter. It's about chaining retards to the porch. You'll see.

I think it was so easy to write because it came from my moral authority.

I didn't stay at the station for the broadcast; I came home to listen to it.

I made a dish of the bowtie pasta I found in the fridge at KUNM, ate some of my Middle Eastern food, and drank a soda.

And then I really cried and sobbed for awhile.

By then, it was time for my commentary, which really cheered me up.

I'm a tough old broad.