How I Lost $500 This Morning

Okay so it’s 3:30 in the morning and I am still in bed knocked the fuck out. My phone rings and by the time I decide to reach for it, I miss the call.  I look at the caller ID and I notice that it’s a blocked number so I figured it was someone at the radio station calling to see if I was coming in on this glorious Martin Luther King Jr. holiday—and I was.

I call the radio station and no one there had called me.  Strange I thought.

So then I had to do something that I don’t like to do and don’t do often but given the fact that my Grandma is sick right now and it could have been anyone calling, I checked my voicemail.

What I hear is someone, a female, a stud female (and yes I am racially profiling), who I think was inebriated, asking me to call them and telling them I can make some money quick if I’m down.

Now in my line of work, politics, quick money will get you a prison sentence—but nevertheless I said what the hell and I called the person back.

30 seconds into the conversation after the words club and stripper, I stopped the person and said um, you have the wrong Jasmyne, you want Stripper Jasmine, I am Political Jasmyne, sorry.

She didn’t believe me and let me tell you it took quite some convincing for me to get her to understand that while I am extremely interested in making a quick $500, I couldn’t get my fat ass to swing from a stripper pole to save my ass—not that I wouldn’t—just that I couldn’t.

Finally she believed me and we went on to talk about other things—more political while I was getting dressed to head out to the station.

And that my friends, is how I lost $500 this morning.

The Court of Public Opinion

  • Daz Dilli

    How I Realized That I Am A Racsist And a Hypocrite If I Celebrate Dr. King’s Birthday While Doing Nothing ……..

    subtitled:

    I Pledge Allegiance…………..with Liberty and Justice for All.

    (unless your name is Mitrice Richardson. Then you can do everything
    the proper way your entire life, achieve academic excellence, never
    get a parking ticket, and it don’t make no difference. Your parents can
    plead and preach and petition politely and courteously and diligently
    every day and every night for 16 months and the only tangible result
    is they receive every form of degrading insult.)

    I woke up this morning still the same as yesterday and the day before.
    I looked in the mirror and saw a modern day L.A. honky rascist.

    I don’t feel like a rascist. I don’t speak like a rascist.

    The mirror does not lie, especially with the sunlight coming through the window washing away any shadow.

    One grows up and lives in a society. One is immersed in a culture. Enveloped in that culture which exerts a force on everything you see and hear. It influences
    the reactions which arise from your actions. Inevitably the experiences accrue and begin to take their place in shaping your own thoughts and actions.

    There is a rascist in my mirror.
    Not an active rascist, but rather a passive rascist.
    Not a rascist of commission, but a rascist of ommission.

    I followed the story of Mitrice Richardson too closely, too carefully.
    That’s how I found out I am a rascist.
    Now that I know, I am having a hard time figuring out a way to forget.

    Maybe it wouldn’t have ended up this way if the Sheriff had just said from the very beginning —–

    “there is nothing to investigate. She signed the book and walked out the door and she is an adult and that is all we need to know.
    There is nothing for us to do. There is nothing we have to do. Until someone brings us some evidence that something has happened to her, there is nothing we can do. Sorry.”

    But that is not what happened.

    What happened is the Sheriff said:

    “I am with you. I feel for you.I will help you.
    I am putting resources on this. Personnel and equipment and expertise and
    organizational overhead. I am opening the checkbook, whatever we need to do
    the job.”

    Then he expended resources – a great amount of resources. Paid for by the taxpayers. Baca said they had a homicide detective assigned full time.

    Chief Beck had Detective Knowles and Detective Eguchi on full time missing person investigation for LAPD.

    They were working so hard on the investigation and paying themselves for the work – but it wasn’t enough.

    They had to go on an all expense trip to Las Vegas to visit all the bars and casinos. The finale was a the pitiful news conference with LV Metro where Michael Richardson was locked out so LAPD and LASD could prove they don’t need his help to make themselves look like fools.

    Prior to that an article ran in the L.A. Times quoting one of the LAPD detctives stating that he thought Mitrice was alive – yet he gave no reason to support his conclusion.

    That was when Chief Beck should have pulled Knowles and Eguchi off the case and started an internal investigation into how they were chosen for the assignment.

    But he didn’t. They were allowed to continue drawing pay for NOT conducting a real investigation.

    LASD and LAPD have spent 10’s or 100’s of thousands of dollars not investigating what happened to Mitrice Richardson.

    That was my taxpayer money they paid themselves to Not give justice to Mitrice.

    If I say nothing – then I am rascist.

    I don’t feel comfortable being a rascist – even if the Sheriff does the work and lets me sit back in my chair and share the credit.

    I want to see all that money put back into the people’s bank account.

    We will hold it until someone comes along who is sincere about Justice For All.

    If anyone was actually conducting a real investigation for Mitrice Richardson
    then we would have answers to the following simple questions:

    What time exactly did the car with Mitrice Richardson leave from Geoffrey’s restaurant?

    What car was it and who else was in the car?

    What was the exact route taken to get to the sheriff”s substation?

    What stops were made along the way and for how long?

    What time exactly did the car with Mitrice Richardson arrive at the station?

    Which car was it and who else was in the car when it arrived?

  • Hey Daz, it’s spelled RACIST, there’s no such thing as a “rascist”, that just makes you sound like an illiterate idiot.. the more you know..

  • Daz Dilli

    Hello Cris Hendrix – thank you for your contribution to proper spelling.
    Devotion to proper spelling is an admirable value.

    Hating is not an admirable value.

    Take a minute to get a close-up look at a hater.

    Take a look in the mirror, Cris.

    I guess you already know how hard you be hating.

    If you just wanted to make sure that others understand how hard you been
    hating today, then I say – mission accomplished.

    If you are also asking for help with your condition
    and you sincerely want to make a
    change, then let us know and we will do what we can to lend you a hand.

  • Daz Dilli

    In my first comment i revealed that i am a honky.
    White.
    Whitey.
    A peckerwoodT
    There is not much that I can do to change that.
    My mother and father are white.
    My grandparents were white.
    My great grandparents were whiter.
    And my great-grand parents were even whiter than that.

    I am also a racist – a modern day L.A. passive racist.

    The lifelong beneficiary of our societies traditional tendencies of white privilege. I was not a blatant requester of privilege, but there is not always the need to ask. I am white. That fact alone determines that I will be the recipient.

    As the beneficiary of institutionalized white privilege I have also suffered from its silent and corrosive side-effect — non-specific, non-inflammatory racism.

    I really want to pull myself out of this undesirable condition.

    Thats why I say – No!

    Not with my tax money!

    Not in my name!

    The sheriff will not remain unchallenged.

    What they spent thousands upon thousands of our dollars for is not a real investigation for Mitrice – it is a farce and a charade and it is lame.

    A real investigation will answer the questions listed in comment #1

    That is the door to finding the truth,
    This is my belief and here is why:

    When the very first news reports were put out on the disappearance of Mitrice Richardson – some were listing the time of her release from booking at the Malibu/Lost Hills Sheriff Station as 1:37 A.M.

    The reported release time quickly settled at around 12:37 A.M.- 12:47A.M.

    Sometimes it seemed that 12:27 A.M. was the best choice.

    After 11 months without a trace, Mitrice Richardson’s remains are discovered.

    News conferences and conferences are conducted.

    And the quote given for reporters to use when referring to the time of release from booking when Mitrice Richardson walked out of the station as a free person —- “shortly after midnight”.

    The racist in me doesn’t pay much attention. My inner racist doesn’t see much importance in these minor discrepancies.

    Well I am fed-up and sick and tired of being a g*dd*mm muthafu*****
    armchair racist.

    The L.A.County Sheriff’s Department has lost 90 minutes of their time with Mitrice Richardson.

    After paying themselves thousands and thousands of dollars of my tax money and spending thousands and thousands of dollars of my tax money on their expenses conducting investigations they have not located one G*dd*M Muthafu***** minute that was lost.

    The Sheriff’s had Mitrice Richardson for how long?

    3 or 4 or 5 hours maximum?

    And as long as 90 minutes is gone???

    Am living in 1963?

    Are we in Mississippi?

    Are we are going to force this mother and father to disturb the child who they just
    a few months ago laid to rest in order to make a believable case for allowing her to receive an opportunity for the justice which the last 16 months of struggle and strife fell short of proving sufficiently to us?

    That is not only racist.

    That is cruel!

    That is BullSh**!!

    Find the 90 minutes they lost!

    And Stop the BullSh**!!