Why It Doesn't Hurt to Be a White Man in the 'Hood

So Saturday was a rare free day for Jane and myself. Without school, church or family obligations it seemed like a mini vacation. So I decided to get some chores done around the house. One of the California lilacs died in the front after achieving a very substantial size and was a bit of a fire hazard. As I proceeded out to chop it into kindling, my next door neighbor (the crack whore) presented herself. She had been high on crack for the last three days which had naturally put her out of her mind. She had been screaming so much for the last 72 hours that her voice had been reduced to to a hoarse, painful sounding rasping. We usually put up with quite a bit from her, probably more than we should, but this was something else. She was wandering around outside with a sizable cut on her arm minus her shirt screaming that she had been shot. She hadn't been of course. So at the request of her boyfriend I called 911. First time ever in my life by the way. So I called on my cell phone and am quickly connected to an operator. After hearing the situation I am transferred quickly two more times and am in the middle of explaining the situation to LAPD when a black and white screeches to a halt in front of my house. Within 1 minute of my dialing 911, the cops have arrived at the scene. Within 3 minutes of my dialing 911, 3 more black and whites show up and a total of 8 cops, 1 ambulance, two paramedics, and a fire marshal truck complete with a fire marshal are in front of my house dealing with the crack whore. It takes all of them to muscle her to a stretcher that they then have to tie her to. Overall I was very impressed with the speedy response. Of course the crack whore's boyfriend starts complaining how no one ever shows up when he calls 911. All things being equal, it doesn't hurt to be a white man in the 'Hood. At least the authorities come running quick when we call.