Because I am old in the ways of sin, I dropped the butt of a $5 cigar onto the rain-darkened blacktop of a convenience store parking lot. I was going in for coffee, black, no sugar.
The owner, an immigrant American citizen from a former British colony, saw me from the front window of his small, but sincere, store. When I came in, he told me I shouldn't drop cigar butts in his parking lot, not even when it's raining.
"By God," I said, whipping a Confederate flag from my right pocket, an American flag from my left pocket, and a Bible from my back pocket. "I bet you don't complain when one of your illegal buddies drops the his leftover bombs in your parking lot.
"Where did Obama get the money he sent to Iran!" I yelled, backing the store owner against his counter.
"I'm from India," the store owner yelled, striking me over the head with a bag of CBD gumdrops.
The police came.
"Sir," the officer said, her hand toying idly with the butt of her pistol. "Why did you assault this man?
"Oh, sure," I said. "Muslims assault America and Nancy Pelosi says it's fine. A white American sticks up for his rights, and he gets oppressed."
"Sir," the officer said. "Please calm down. I'm just trying to find out what happened."
A reporter who worked for the local, thin-as-a-credit-card weekly paper blundered into the store, eyes wide for fake news.
I had just attempted to bite the officer when the reporter took my picture, and the officer slapped a pair of handcuffs on my American wrists.
"Fake news!" I howled at the reporter.
I used my one phone call to contact my attorney.
"Dig up some dirt on the officer who arrested me," I said. "Find out something about that reporter, too. He's fake news."
"You'll need $25 to get out," they told me later in the day.
"If I was the Federal Reserve, I could just print more money," I said. "The Founding Fathers warned us!"
The witch hunt was on. It wasn't long before the police department checked out my license plates, my driver's license and my registration. They discovered I owed child support to a stripper in Steubenville, Ohio, and they found 16 unpaid parking tickets.
"If they can't get me on one thing, they'll get me on something else," I told the judge. "It's the biggest disgrace there's ever been in any courtroom ever. It's awful."
I'm not doing time, but I did have to pay the child support, all the parking tickets, fees and fines, and I'm on supervised probation for 18 months.
I don't get it. I have the same excuses the big guys have, but they don't work for me the way they work for the guys at the top. I used to think that was because I'm white, but aren't all the guys at the top white, too?
I'll tell you what I learned, though. There is no such thing as "white privilege." I mean, I got arrested, didn't I? So, in a way, I've been right all along.
To find out more about Marc Monroe Dion and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit www.creators.com. Dion's latest book, "The Land of Trumpin'," is a collection of his best columns about how what happened to us all. It is available in paperback from Amazon.com, and for Nook, Kindle, iBooks and GooglePlay.