NYC Stop-and-Frisk Policy:
A Case of Bad-Ass Beetles

By Jim Berlin

Federal judge Shira Sheindlin has ruled that NYPD’s stop-and-frisk policy – which has reduced murders by 80 percent since 1994 – is unconstitutional because mostly Blacks and Hispanics are being, well, stopped and frisked. The judge called it “indirect racial profiling,” despite the fact that 97 percent of NYC shootings involve Blacks and Hispanics.

To understand why New York’s big blue meanies have operated as they have, imagine for a moment that you and your father are the owners of a wheat farm. One day, the Old Man calls you into the kitchen and hands you a magnifying glass…

“What’s this for, Pa?” you ask.

“Kid,” says Pa, “we got a problem with our wheat crop. Beetles are eating it.”

“Gosh, Pa, what kind of beetles?”

“The biologists call them Bad-Ass Beetles. There are Black Bad-Ass Beetles and Brown Bad-Ass Beetles, and together they’re eating 97 percent of our wheat.”

“Gee whiz, Pa, are all black and brown beetles Bad-Asses?”

“No indeed, kid, only the ones with little beetle teeth. That’s why I’m giving you this magnifying glass. I want you to go out in the fields and look in their little mouths to see if they have

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little beetle teeth. If they do, they are Bad-Ass Beetles.”

“What should I do with them, Pa?”

“You slap those Bad-Ass Beetles in a jar so they can’t eat any more of our wheat.”

“But what about white beetles, Pa? We’ve got some of them, too.”

“Yeah, we do, Kid. But White Bad-Ass Beetles are eating only three percent of our wheat. Check them out if they look kind of toothy, but remember, there are only so many hours in a day.”


A Boy Named “Messiah”
Is Sure To Be Crucified

By Jim Berlin

A Tennessee magistrate’s decree that a child cannot keep the first name of “Messiah” will surely be overturned when the baby’s mother appeals the decision to a higher power.

Messiah’s unmarried mom was actually in court to determine the kid’s last name when Judge Lu Ann Bellew said only Jesus Christ deserved the messianic label. Bellew replaced the stripped title with “Martin.”

The judge may be legally misguided but she was right on target when she said Messiah would be a lifelong liability for the boy. Millions of intellectually-challenged parents saddle their offspring with names that automatically put their children at a disadvantage in mainstream society.

Good luck to rednecks Buck and Bubba and Billy Joe, Candy and Chardonnay, Crystal and Destiny, Rufus and Clyde. Not even a Ph.D. behind their names will save them.

Then we have well-meaning Mexicans who push God’s patience to the limit by naming millions of their sons Jesus. While that might fly high and proud south of the border, it is barely acceptable in the U.S. only because of its “Hay-soos” pronunciation. Not many guys named Jesus are going to wind up on Wall Street.

The mother of Messiah in the Tennessee case is an African-American named Jaleesa, and she claims she didn’t recognize the God-connection

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when she chose the name. I believe her.

Black women of modest education are famous for creating melodious and often nonsensical names for their children. Names they often can’t spell for the birth certificate because the names have never been spelled before:

Kaneesha, Lateesha, Maneeshah, Jaleesa…Messiah. They just like the way they roll from the tongue.

But right or wrong, the names we carry color the way others perceive us.

Jaleesa’s son Martin might have a chance in life. Jaleesa’s son Messiah won’t have a prayer.


Alex Rodriguez and PEDs:
Like Spitting in God’s Face

By Jim Berlin

The most shameful aspect of professional baseball players using performance enhancing drugs (PEDs) is their failure to appreciate how truly blessed they are.

Their journeys to the highest level of the game can be viewed as a pyramid, with the base made up of tens of millions of little kids who first heft a bat and slip on a glove just a few years after making that hard slide from the womb. About two million of those youngsters will have sufficient interest to eventually don Little League uniforms and play for the “Tiger Cats” or “Crazy Comets” while mom and dad cheer wildly from lawn chairs.

But despite a shelf full of “participant trophies” most of those little leaguers will eventually recognize that physical skills are not evenly distributed. Mom and dad exaggerated; they’re not really great after all.

Still, one out of four will be good enough to later in life say they were among 500,000 American kids who play on high school teams. But only 31,000 will be able to say, “Son, you should have seen me when I starred in college. If it wasn’t for that nagging injury (a history of hangovers from frat parties), I might have turned pro.”

The pyramid has grown high and narrow by college, and it’s there when scouts from America’s 30 major league teams descend on baseball fields across the country with clipboards and speed guns in hand.

When all their reports and guesses are in, just 806 of those 31,000 college players — and a handful of high school seniors — will be drafted and assigned to a minor league team.

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The pyramid is nearing its apex now – but not so fast. Of those wonderfully-talented 806 players who actually get drafted by the Yankees or Braves or Diamondbacks, only one in ten will ever be promoted from the minor leagues to “The Big Show” – the organization’s major league team.

There are only 750 major league baseball players in all of America – 750 out of the tens of millions of little kids who first picked up a bat and glove. They are truly blessed, these 750 men.

And yet some of them – like Alex Rodriguez – have the nerve to tell themselves they deserve even more. They sneak drugs into their bodies – cheating their peers and fans — because being truly blessed is just not good enough. It’s like spitting in God’s face.

Shame on them all. May they rot in obscurity.

Weiner: “I Falsely Confessed
To Texting Pics of my Privates”

By Jim Berlin

New York City mayoral candidate Anthony Weiner has revealed in an exclusive interview that he falsely confessed to texting photos of his sex organ to women he met on-line.

“The real truth was too embarrassing,” he told me. “It was an innocent joke that got out of hand.”

“How so?” I asked.

“What happened was, I took a close-up picture of my nose and sent it to a woman with a note saying, ‘This is a heavy burden to bear.’ Just a little self-deprecating humor, you know?”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I said.

“Of course not. But she thinks it’s really a picture of my, my, ahh…”

“Your penis?”

“I don’t like to talk dirty, but yes. She wrote back that it was the most magnificent thingy she’d ever seen. She even made reference to a wild stallion. A wild stallion – can you believe it?

“Wow! Why didn’t you tell her it was really your nose?”

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“Just stupid male ego. I mean, every guy wants to think he’s super-endowed, right? So suddenly I’m snapping all kinds of low-light close-ups of my nose and texting them to dozens of women.”

“And they all thought it was your…?”

“Yes, every one of them saw what they wanted to see!”

“And this is why you refuse to drop out of the mayor’s race?”

“Exactly. I may be guilty of poor judgment, but there’s nothing immoral about sending out pictures of your nose.”

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