People often ask me what there is to do for entertainment in Jacksonville. For the most part, I would say there is a whole lot of nothing….. Jacksonville is a sleepy town that just recently came to the realization may no longer be living in the era of segregation and inequality, yet they seem to be having a hard time accepting that the Civil Rights Act not only passed, many other states have actually embraced that fact. I don’t know that I can blame them for their ignorance, though. After all, the state of Florida is bordered by states like Georgia and Alabama. Although these two states would be considered progressive in comparison with Mississippi which is the state in the entire union with ONE abortion clinic….one clinic……in the entire state…..one clinic that they want to shut down, because they actually believe that “abortions are illegal”……
Political or religious viewpoints aside, my intention is only to give you a sense of how far the south needs to run to catch up, and the distance they need to cover, in order to “rise again” up the ladder of social evolution. This gives reason to believe that I should run from the city, as fast as possible….but in this heat? Child, you must be outside yo mind! Ain’t nobody gonna run nowhere in this heat, oh no. This is why we have porch parties in the summer, because it is too hot to run anywhere, or do anything. So, we get something cool to drink and watch the world’s social rejects stroll on by. Of course, if you sit outside too long, then you will probably end up covered with noseeum bites that itch for three-mother-f**king weeks before the swelling subsides. I have come to discover that they are immune to deet and gasoline, so you need not bother dousing yourself in nasty chemicals, known as bug repellant.
Be warned, however, if you don’t spray yourself with some sort of Agent Orange type material, every 15-minutes then the mosquitos full of West Nile and malaria will bite the living s**t out of you. So what, in GAWD’s name, keeps me here?…… Two things – a handsome, kind, wonderful, witty man annnnnd….. the Jump-Out-Boyz. My first encounter with the Jump-Out-Boyz happened a couple of months ago, on a quiet Saturday morning when it was still cool enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk (In August, eggs spontaneously combust if brought outside). It was roughly 8:30am and I had just let Ginnie out to poop on the sidewalk. She won’t squat to shit on the “St. Augustine (aka crab) grass” any more than I would walk on it barefoot (poo free, of course) because it feels like you’re trotting across razorblades…..now imagine what that would feel like on one’s delicate little bo-hiney! Poor baby! So, she shits on the sidewalk….smart dog indeed.
Just as she assumed the position, two cars, a black Crown Victoria and a Blue Chevy pick-up, pulled up in front of the cat factory across the street. Now I normally wouldn’t pay attention to cars coming and going, but just as the driver’s side door on the Victoria opened, its car alarm starting go off and a ninja got out! But, ninjas were supposed to be all stealthy and catlike….so this was definitely NOT a ninja. My suspicion was confirmed when the stealth-like warrior turned around and the word “POLICE” was prominently displayed across the back of their uniform. These must be special POLICE! These POLICE wore wearing all black, hoodies and masks. These POLICE drove regular looking cars. These POLICE are known as The Jump-Out-Boyz.
Why, you ask? Because they arrive, they jump out, they snatch someone up, they leave. Ta-dah! Meet the Jump Out Boyz!
I was stunned and it took me a minute to realize that standing outside in my PJs, waiting for the dog to poop, was probably not the best option during a raid of the crack house across the street. And we all thought it was it was a cat factory – I know understand that was just a cover for even more nefarious behavior. I yelled to Ginnie to get her a$$ back in the house where she would be allowed to poop without getting us shot, but she was intent on finishing her business, because inside isn’t for pooping, it’s for eating and we don’t shit where we eat, do we Mom?? – DUH!!! By the time she finished, the Jump Out Boyz had entered the premises, retrieved their crack dealer courtesy of the warrant-of-the-day program and had him in the car ready to go. Sadly – this is the only department in the entire city of Jacksonville that runs this efficiently…..a department that can’t figure out how to get out of a Crown Vic without setting the car alarm off….