'Lawdie, Lawdie, Lawdie, We Is Saved' - The Inner City Welcomes Donald Trump And The Forces Of Law And Order

If one were to watch only legacy media, the fake news as the President calls them, it would seem that the federalization of the DC police force, the mobilization of the National Guard, and the delegation of FBI, DEA, and ICE to provide tactical and logistical support was tantamount to an Anschluss - panzer divisions deployed in civilian areas ready to round up, detain, and imprison innocent Americans. 

Yet the word on the street was far different.  In the most crime-ridden neighborhoods of the city, residents cheered as APVs rolled through the streets.  An end to drive-by shootings, gang violence, drug posses, rape, and assault.  

The City Council had approved wide-ranging legislation to defund the police, to decriminalize felonies to misdemeanors, and ignore misdemeanors altogether. This said Mayor Muriel Bowser, was 'a return of civility and respect' to the community.  There would be no George Floyds in Washington, she went on, no more choke holds, police shootings, arbitrary arrests and seizures.  'From now on', she said, 'the police will be your servants, not the white folks''  

She retracted that last statement but not before it went viral and caused an uproar in white, wealthy Ward 3, the zone which contributes the most taxes to the city coffers, and has watched those dollars poured down the rathole for entitlement walkin' around money.  After billions of public revenue had been spent for naught and the socio-economic indicators of inner city neighborhoods no better than a Lagos slum, the tenuous peace between Ward 3 and the City was at the breaking point. 

Ward 3, in addition to being white and wealthy, was also progressive; so liberals in Cleveland Park, Spring Valley, and Georgetown felt that eventually their solicitude would pay off, that the infamous Capital ghettoes would emerge from poverty, crime, and drug abuse - the legacy of slavery - and join the mainstream.  However with this comment about the Big House, police as slaves to the massas of white Washington was more than they could take. 

Angry letters poured into Bowser's office, but she made no retraction.  'You are the problem', she angrily replied in a public statement, not us', and with that she set off a racial firestorm unseen since the days of Mayor for Life, Marion Barry.  Yet, although Ward 3 had the money, it did not have the votes, and the Council went on its radical progressive path until the city was ungovernable. 

As a result the communities favored by the Council and the Mayor, the deep black constituencies of Wards 7 and 8, became gangland turf even more than they ever had been.  The community did not take responsibility for its actions, black ministers kept on talking about white privilege, racism, and the plague of the white man while normal black Washingtonians ran for cover.  Not surprisingly under permissiveness, crime increased not decreased.  Without black-and-whites patrolling the neighborhood, 'we can do fuck all', said Pharoah Jones, unofficial Mayor of  Anacostia, one of Washington's blackest and most dysfunctional townships. 

For years Jones and his crew had made millions - first from the numbers, prostitution, and dope; then during the Jamaican crack wars millions more, and then with free rein given by the City Council, they made a fortune on Fentanyl and heroin.  Pharoah was sitting pretty with a harem of beautiful women, homes in Bimini and St. Barts, and a fortune in Aruban off-shore accounts. 

Day and night Martin Luther King Avenue crackled with gunfire, carjacking was the new normal, and the projects dens of insurrection, murder, and violent assault. 

So when federal troops rolled into town, the inner city cheered.  'Lawdie, Lawdie, Lawdie, we is saved' shouted Mabel Jefferson, cheering the National Guard troops who arrived in a phalanx of twenty vehicles, armed soldiers surveilling both sides of the avenue, meaning business, determined, and unstoppable.  Mabel hugged her neighbor standing beside her, and the two women broke into tears. 

Not quite the Second Coming which both women anxiously awaited, but an end to mayhem and incivility.  Their lives might be poor but wealthy in spirit, and now they were 'Free at last'. Donald Trump had given them a reprieve, some breathing room to praise the Lord, a safe haven from the violence that surrounded them. 

'Gestapo!' shouted a group of angry women from Wesley Heights who had gathered along M Street in Georgetown as the armored vehicles filed past. 'Pigs, Nazis, Storm Troopers', they howled.  The caravan halted and the soldiers jumped down and ran into the crowd, cornering five young black men who just raided the Gap and were loaded with shirts, pants, and jackets. 

A cheer went up from the shoppers on the street, drowning out the chants of the women from Wesley Heights.  Suddenly and without warning, the crowd turned on the women. 'Go home, bitch', shouted one.  'Fuck off, lady', yelled another. 

The women looked at each other in disbelief.  Never in all their years arguing for civil rights, social justice, and doing the right thing had they ever been so accosted.  They had grown up to believe that the compassionate, inclusive, collaborative progressive way was the only way, and now this?  America turned into a fascist state and people cheering in support?

So from white Georgetown to deepest, blackest Anacostia, residents cheered Donald Trump and his forces of law and order.  'Finally', they said, drawing in a great big breath of relief. 

The Wesley Heights women, already aggrieved and horrendously shocked watched as another line of trucks stopped by the homeless encampment across the street - a nasty shit-smelling settlement of tents and lean-tos, an eyesore, a dump, a blight on urban living - and summarily bulldozed it, dumping everything into waiting garbage trucks, then power washing the entire area until every last remnant of what had been there was gone.  The troops were cheered, and the garbagemen embraced. 

'Oh, God', said one Wesley Heights matron.  'Oh God', for no other words were possible.  This heinous removal was no different than the Nazi Kristallnacht and the forced removal of the Jews from the Warsaw ghetto.  'Fascists!, she managed to say, but the grinding of the garbage trucks drowned her out, and she was left standing alone and watching. 

Back in the ghetto, the cleanup continued -gangs routed, guns confiscated, punks wrestled down and handcuffed, armed troops stationed outside every doorway to the Frederick Douglass Homes, Anacostia's most dangerous and lawless projects.  Women holding babies cheered the soldiers from hundreds of windows up and down the project blocks.  Saviors, they were, come to rescue the good people from the bad. 

'Lawdie, Lawdie, Lawdie, we is saved', repeated Mabel Jefferson again and again as she watched the troops file past, breaking ranks only to arrest, handcuff, and throw into waiting police vans the thugs who had terrorized her and her neighbors for years. 

'Woke is gone and the police are back', said one commentator after chronicling the scene in Anacostia as he filmed an ecstatic Mabel Jefferson, arms in the air, shouting, 'Praise the Lord'.