The Profiler

The Profiler
(by R.P.Edwards)

A policeman named Crowley
A professor named Gates
One said, “His duty,”
The other cried, “Hates!”
What’s so sad is… it’s confirming
Of my profiling tool
No, not of race…
But of an Ivy League School

You know, this profiling thing is a mixed bag. To naturally associate bad behavior with skin tone is…shameful. Imagine being singled out for investigation because of your melanin level. Of course, there is the flip side. It’s the kind of profiling that advertisers depend on. Oh sure, they use the word “demographics“…but we know what they mean. Face it, certain groups are more prone to buy certain things and these business folk know how to push the "buy buttons" (seen those hamburger commercials?)

And so we come to Scholar Gates, and Cambridge cop, Crowley. As many know, the good professor became quite irate when the policeman came to his door due to a call made by a concerned citizen. Now, I don’t know if the prof was simply having a bad day, or perhaps past run-ins with armed peace-keepers produced a knee-jerk reaction, or possibly the anti-authority atmosphere of upper academia somehow tainted his perception. But, due to my limited experience and observation, I wholeheartedly choose the latter. You see, when I think of judges legislating from the bench…I think of their teachers at the university. When I think of godless media folk…I think of their instructors in academia. When I think of the general twisting of society, be it from the legislative seat or the high school rostrum, I trace it back to the perverse spawning grounds of “higher” education. So, to the professor, I say “Thank you for affirming my beliefs.”

Yes, I admit it, when it comes to the doctoral digs I am an unabashed, broad-brush, they’re all alike, profiler. But, what do you expect from a Midwestern, redneck, union steelworker.

That's what I think.  How about you? Click comments below...and say.