So my wife and I traveled down to the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center in Cincinnati the other day. When I got the directions I noticed it was on the corner of Rosa Parks and Freedom Way streets after turning off of Race Ave. Oh snap! Usually any street named after a black person in America is the last place you want to be. If you’re lost in a major city and end up on Martin Luthor King Jr. Blvd. get out as fast as you can. You’re probably in the heart of the ghetto (my dad calls it “the bucket of blood”) where even the cops fear to tread.

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