I ate a bag of Skittles and lived to tell about it

I ate a bag of Skittles and lived to tell about it

I tried to buy a bag of Peanut M&M’s the other day, but when that spiral thing in the vending machine stopped going around and around, the M&M’s were still hanging from their slot.

Don’t you hate when that happens?

There’s no one around and no way to get your money back. It’s one of those times that demand immediate, decisive action.

So I pushed the top of the vending machine back to the wall and let the front legs crash back to the floor and voila, my M&M’s dropped like manna from Heaven.

Along with a bag of Chips Ahoy, a giant Kit Kat bar and a bag of Skittles.

I gave the cookies to a girl wearing Happy New Year stars on her head, the Kit Kat to my wife and shoved the Skittles into my pocket. I’d never had Skittles before, but I like those Taste the Rainbow commercials.

As New Year’s Eve approached, I ripped open the Skittles and was pleasantly surprised to find them quite tasty and soon the bag was empty.

Watching the ball drop in Times Square, it occurred to me that one could easily take for granted the simply pleasure of eating a bag of candy and watching TV with friends.

If I had really wanted to tempt fate, I might have gotten an Arizona Watermelon Fruit Juice Cocktail and put the hood of my sweatshirt up, which is exactly what Trayvon Martin had done before he was executed by George Zimmerman in Sanford, Florida, on February 26, 2012.

To be sure, Zimmerman was acquitted of second-degree murder by a jury of his peers. Then again, so was Kyle Rittenhouse and O.J. Simpson.

Juries don’t always get it right.

You can read my comments about George Zimmerman’s encounter with Trayvon Martin HERE.

You may be asking yourself what my point is in all of this. You might even want to ask me and I’m not sure I have an answer for you.

What I do know is that being Black in America can be dangerous. It can be fatal.

Whether or not you want to attribute it to him, the rise of Donnie Trump has coincided with the rise of racism, White supremacy, Nazism and every imaginable kind of hate there is.

A kid with an AR-15 became a celebrated hero because he killed two people who supported the idea that Black lives matter.

My Hebraic brothers think Donnie Trump is their friend, but his friends are not only their enemies, but want them dead.

They wouldn’t be the first Jews to mistakenly think their friends and neighbors wouldn’t turn their backs on them and then take their homes and businesses.

They are misguided Jews who don’t question why Donnie Trump would move the U.S. embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem and then have said embassy dedicated by anti-Semitic televangelist, Robert Jefress.

I may not live long enough to see the day when EVERYONE can walk down the street in a hoodie with a bag of skittles and not be shot, but I won’t forget the name of Trayvon Martin.

He died with a bag of candy and a soft drink in his pockets.

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