Why I'm pissed about Trayvon.

I was watching television one day in grotty shorts and a dirty fleecy jumper. Our lovely neighbor Maria came to the door and tells us the Mocha their child's dog has got out. I spring into action. I went left and the flatmate went right. No shoes covered in food and coffee and grot looking up people's driveways calling out Mocha! I had rounded the block and was about 100 metres from home. A blue sedan screamed to a halt in front of me and 2 undercover cops jumped out of it and pounced at me flashing badges. I was hit with 20 questions and they didn't listen to any of them. I have 2 degrees, have studied, travelled extensively overseas. I don't speak like a drug dealer or a burglar. I kept telling them what I was doing and that all my identification and everything they needed was 100 metres away in that house with the Canna Lillies. They asked me to turn out my pockets when my neighbor returned in her car. She and her son came to my aid and the cops vanished as fast as they had appeared, I had a terrifying 5 minutes, Trayvon lost 80 years. I'm angry.