Actor Forest Whitaker was stopped and frisked leaving a Manhattan deli the other day on suspicion that he had shoplifted something.

Besides the scenery, apparently the burly Afro-American thespian enjoys chewing up Jewish delicacies as well. Maybe he just likes to be around other hams. And, judging by the looks of him, lunch meat in general.

Let’s be honest: If Forest Whitaker comes into your establishment and you don’t know who he is, you’re going to be deeply concerned for everything that isn’t nailed down.

From Fatty Arbuckle to O. J. Simpson to Alec Baldwin, we know celebrities can be unbalanced menaces to Society and patting them down on sight might not be such a bad idea.

They say Tobey McGuire and Sarah Jessica Parker have both been seen at the same deli recently yet neither of them got frisked.

Why? Because they’re transgendered? It’s a double standard.

In a way, I’m glad it happened because at least it got the type of typically white as hell people who feel the need to comment on any and every article on the Internet talking about race and explaining to us how difficult it is to be black in this country.

Their tear-stained comments were as a dagger unto my bosom.

I hope and I pray that one day we live in a country where a black man can, say, win an Oscar or even get elected president.

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope some day you will join us and the world will live together being maudlin and melodramatic as one, regardless of color.

Only by relentlessly crying racist wolf and seeing any and every incident or misunderstanding involving a person of color as a golden opportunity for the people who don’t see color to obsess over color ad nauseam and belabor self-serving race-baiting and blatant racial demonizing can we ever hope to one day pretend that race doesn’t matter so long as we talk about how much it doesn’t matter ’til we’re blue in the face.

I’ll be the first to admit it: I’m white. But that doesn’t automatically mean my life growing up on Shady Lane in Pleasant Valley was a picnic.

Well, except when we had really nice picnics but you know what I’m saying.

Just because I’m white doesn’t make my life a bed of roses.

Actually, gardening and horticulture is a passion of mine but you know what I mean.

I grew up in a neighborhood that was kinda rough, kinda not rough. It was known as "Hell’s Breakfast Nook."

I ran with a local gang, The Rhododendron Boys, and our turf was between Rhododendron Terrace and Cherry Blossom Lane.

Sure, we rumbled a time or two with the Eastside Daffodils.

Maybe it wasn’t a "rumble" per se, but more of a bake sale to see who could raise the most money for charity.

We kicked their asses. Me and Mugsy baked a Bundt Cake.

My point being, why does everything have to be so racial?

I see an Academy Award-winning African-American actor wandering into what is historically a Jewish-owned business in search of a good pastrami sandwich and an overzealous store employee recognized him and probably wanted an excuse to touch him.

Everyone knows Jews own the best delicatessens. And the media.

Good pastrami totally makes up for them worshipping the wrong God in my book.

Just keep their mitts off Forest Whitaker and we’re good.

—SHIFT

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