“Good morning Chicago. I’m your radio host, Alex Kidd, coming at you live from WVLK 590 on your am dial.

If you haven’t heard, if you’ve been out of town, living under a rock, or maybe hiding in your tub, our great city, my home town, had one of the bloodiest Fourth of July weekends I have ever seen. Eighty-five people shot, fifteen murdered. Hell, even the police got shot at.

Now, I know we’ve talked about guns, gangs, and violence before, but…you have to understand. My heart is broken. What took place this weekend, on what should have been a time of celebration and comradery, is almost beyond words. But, we’re going to discuss this…this epidemic, and we’re going to be real. No political correctness today, people. If I’m fired tomorrow, then so be it. Black people, do you hear me? White people, Hispanics, Asians, hell, I don’t care if you’re a blue skinned Smurf, if you have an opinion or God help me, a solution, please call in. The number is 312-555-1254. Let’s not waste any more time and go to the phones. Line one is Sheryl on the Dan Ryan. Talk to us, baby.”

“Hello, am I on the air?”

“You’re live with Alex, baby-girl, talk to me.”

“Alex, I heard the Mayor this morning. He said them guns are coming from Indiana, and if we don’t get some kind of federal law, how we are supposed to keep guns out of Chicago?”

“I saw him this morning too, and ordinarily I would be right there with the Mayor, but…I said we are going to keep it real today. Didn’t I say that?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Alright then; hear me now. There weren’t eighty-five shootings in Indiana, the so-called source. There weren’t eighty-five shootings in gun-happy Dallas Texas, where even cows carry guns, but there was here. Do you feel me, Sheryl?”

“I…I feel you, Alex.”

“Do I need say more about that?”

“No you don’t.  I just wanted…”

“Me too, Sheryl, me too; okay, let’s move on to Tyrone calling in from the west-side. Talk to me, T.”

“Ah…ah…Alex, my man, I know you’re feeling sad, but don’t fall for none of the prop…propa….that fake stuff from the N.R.A.  They bring them guns into our neighborhoods, and them drugs, to keep us dow…”

“Tyrone, brother, that’s been said before. It’s not gonna fly today. This weekend, there was a whole lot of brothers and sisters down, some of them dead, some bleeding, and others ducking bullets. They were as down as you can get, Tyrone, and fifteen of them ain’t getting back up. It wasn’t the N.R.A. shooting at them. It wasn’t the KKK, or Mitt Romney and the republicans. It was mostly young black males. And brother, let’s be honest. This isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. It’s got to stop.”

“Alex, I…I’m not saying young brothers didn’t pull the triggers, but who put the gun in they hands?”

“So you don’t blame the gangs, the seventy-five percent single mother family rate, or the sixty percent high school drop-out rate, or babies raising babies?”

“Not really, if the Man didn’t make guns, then we wouldn’t have them. You see what I’m saying? It’s a conspir…”

“Yeah, I hear you and you’re wrong, but thanks for calling. Let’s get one more call in before the break. Debbie on line three, you’re on.”

“Hello, Alex, one of those people shot was my nephew.”

“I’m so sorry. Is he okay?”

“Yes, thank the Lord, but, Alex, I agree with Tyrone. Those guns almost killed my sister’s little boy. There isn’t a good reason for guns in our country. I think them people are bringing guns in so our young people will get them and do this kind of thing.”

“You heard me tell Tyrone he was wrong didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Hold on! Are you married?”

“Yes I am.”

“That’s good. Now, you blame the gun, and the manufacturers?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Debbie, are you okay with your husband having sex with another woman?”

“No, don’t be funny.”

“I’m not joking. What if the woman was really pretty; would you blame him if he cheated then?”

“Yeah, I’ll blame him.”

“So, if you don’t want your husband to cheat, then shouldn’t you go out and keep the pretty women and ugly women too, from being anywhere near your husband or at least, cut off his penis?”

“That’s stupid, Alex. I expect my husband to be a man, and do the right thing. I wouldn’t remove all the other women in the world if I could. If he’s going cheat, he’ll find something to stick his @#*! in.”

“Woo, Debbie! You can’t say that on the air.”

“I’m sorry. You got my blood pressure up.”

“But, Debbie, what if it was Beyonce?”

“I don’t care if it was an angel from Heaven.”

“So, you expect him to just say no and keep it in his pants?”

“Hell yes.”

“You must have high expectations?”

“Not high, normal. He’s a man, not an animal.”

“I hear you, Debbie. It’s a shame you think so low of the young black males in our city.”

“What do you mean? I love my brothers, and I…I…damn. I see what you did."

“Yeah, I know. It hits hard when you look at it logically instead of emotionally.”

“It does. I just don’t want it be our fault, Alex.”

“I know, baby-girl, but if we aren’t responsible, then we can never fix it, and if it’s not something in our sub-culture, then all the other Americans would be like us, but they’re not. The jails would be full of Asians and Indians but they’re not.”

“You’re right, but people don’t want to hear that, powerful people, Alex. You’re going to get in a lot of trouble if you keep saying that in public.”

“Maybe…look everyone, I’ve got to take a commercial break. I’ll be right back. I hope.”
 
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