Friday the 3rd

I went out for a jog/walk. Just a block away from returning to my home I stumbled upon 2 youngish looking gentlemen. I should have kept walking but they caught me. Played on my guilt for the holidays and my white man's burdan guilt as well. I ended up driving them all over Columbia on a chase that was ultimately fruitful and took them home. In a free society I would not have felt the need to right hundreds of years of racial injustice by taking to drunken broke-down gangstas to places I have no desire to go. The low point was without question Monte (killer) urinating on a tree in the obligatory lawn median which decorates the entrance for a aging middle class neighbor hood just south of Columbia. They found the 5 Hip-Hop songs I had between the 6 discs in my changer and refused to play anything else. Repeatedly they called me "Clark Kent" becuase apparently I ended up being a more interesting and pleasing fellow than they expected. Monte also confided in me that he was Special Ed. when in the public shcools of Queens, New York. Unfortunately, after hearing his lexicon come full circle in less than an hour this did not surprise me.