Blackhumouristpress's Blog

July 21, 2014

Operation Crowbar or I Gotta Guy

At city hall in the city of Chicago, early on a Monday morning after reading about a dozen murders and over thirty shootings between Friday and Sunday, the mayor threw a fit.
“How is it that we have more fucking murders in this goddamn city than Baghdad or Kabul? I’m tired of press conferences where I hear that the murder rate is actually down but shootings are out of control. It’s a tribute to medicine that thirty people get shot and only a dozen die… THIS BULLSHIT HAS TO END NOW! I’M READY TO HEAR SOME IDEAS OUT OF YOU ALL INSTEAD OF DUMB FUCKING LOOKS… ANYONE?”
The common reply among men in Chicago when someone needs something fixed; I gotta guy. One of the mayor’s guys had a guy.
Now the mayor of Chicago knew about apartheid South Africa about as much as most Americans. It was a terrible thing that a white minority instituted separation of races. A guy named Mandela went from being a Communist perpetrator and an enemy of the state to president and so on and so forth. One of the mayor’s aides knew a guy, who knew a guy who knew the guy necessary to straighten things out in a way that could be understood in the hood. When a large smiling man with a sizable space between his two upper front teeth arrived at a meeting at city hall, it was clear he had the strongest personality in the room. With a strong Afrikaner accent, Jan used an analogy to explain the task ahead of him.
“Thees prrroblem you arrrre having ees nothing. Whaat you arrrre asking of me ees like asking a chef to make you a hard-boiled egg… Now you have to ask yourselves eef the peace you will get ees worth the price you are going to pay. Peace costs money, my friends.”
The large man was once responsible for keeping order in South African townships where angry black people were unhappy about the oppressive laws forced upon them. Jan also overthrew dictators in Africa and lead South African troops to a war in Angola. Dissuading random gangbangers from randomly murdering innocents and others deemed deserving did not seem like a difficult task to Jan. A huge price tag would be accompanied by a huge presence not seen since the riots after Martin Luther King Jr.
Jan stopped talking for a moment. He took out a marker and began writing on a blank sheet of paper. The squeak of the marker was the only sound in the room. Jan stood up and walked over to the mayor’s desk and ripped off a piece of tape and taped the paper to the wall. One word was written on it that nobody understood since it was a Dutch/Afrikaans word.


“You all know the word Apartheid… Learn thees Dutch word, my new frrrriends… Like a fucking hard boiled egg.”

Nothing was announced and nothing was said beyond the walls of city hall. The following Monday, it was front page news that nobody died or was shot within the city limits of Chicago other than one domestic dispute gone wrong. The papers tried to analyze why. The mayor came out with the chief of police to announce that the authorities were turning the corner and getting a handle of the situation and other canned catch phrases used by politicians and athletes alike. So what really happened?
Dozens of enormous trucks with steering wheels on the right side of the vehicles pulled up in every neighborhood with high incidents of murder. These trucks were like Hummers on steroids. They were like angry Land Rover limousines capable of withstanding landmines. For those who liked jacked up vehicles with large rims, these high riding trucks were an item to inspire true awe. Close to thirty former South African Police trucks called Casspirs rolled into rough streets where tourists never tarry. People who stood on corners and front porches began to notice soldiers of fortune filing out of the Casspirs with automatic weapons and scopes. These weren’t fat, old, white men in cop cars. These were white and black men equally in full soldier uniform that were soldiers of fortune from South Africa. Chicago residents in the shit neighborhoods who followed the law and rules and never sold a drug or carried a weapon, smiled and waved at the stoic soldiers that walked around with their fingers on triggers. Something serious and different was afoot. At the press conference with the mayor and chief of police, the mayor responded to the questioned that was posed repeatedly; what did you do to stop the violence?
“We used a crowbar… Sometimes you need to pry back to get at things… Next question… Nobody was murdered this weekend in the city of Chicago. Let’s talk about other things that need fixing… Let’s talk about the Cubs.”

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