The Luck of Professor Gates

She-who-must-etc. was watching the "teev", and as I came up for air from my book briefly, I saw what seemed to be a familiar face.
"Is that what's-his-name?" I said.
She did not move a muscle.
"What's his name? The university guy whom the police "Rodney-Kinged" because he was trying to break in to his own house?"
"Yes," she said. "Professor Henry L. Gates."
"Wow!" I thought.
Now, of course, I was immediately thrown into some considerable internal speculation as to whether the police had now caught the incorrigible Professor in the act of stealing his own car, sneaking around his own office, walking on his own sidewalk, or otherwise being a blatant and public nuisance.
"He was not "Rodney-Kinged", as you put it. He was escorted to the police station and invited to spend the night."
I sensed she was being sarcastic somewhat. The way I remember it had something to do with dirty trousers or de-pantsing and frat hazing, but my memory is an Amazonian rain forest. The good Professor, however, did indeed try  to break into his own house; that no one can deny, for he broke down and confessed to the whole thing. You can read about it.

"He's lucky it was the cops that found him screwing around with his front door!" I said, and now in these Trayvon days, she firmly agreed.
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