June 23, 2012
The Po Po Came Tonight
It was a four-car alarm, but much ado about nothing. We on the north side of the skreet, in the condos, are law-abiding citizens. Half are white, half are black, we fish together, barbecue together, go to church together.
Across the skreet are apartments. Mostly African-American. Things get frisky over there of a Saturday. It is generally two women, who get into unseemly screaming matchs, both with noobs upon their hips. Their menfolk let it escalate until they are nose to nose, then pull them back. Only to let it escalate again. It is the human equivalent of dog fighting.
Anywhats, I was sitting in the back yard when I heard the rumble begin. I filled my wine glass and strolled outside to watch the fireworks. As did my neighbors. It is one of those bonding things that brings us, of all colors and persuasions, together. He brings me a filthy bass he caught in a subdivision lake, which I promptly pitch over the fence, and I give him Ron Paul leaflets, which he promptly pitches over his.
My theory is you cannot appreciate The Other without mercilessly fucking with them first. And allowing them to fuck with you. Hey: some of those bass have phosphate boils on them. I know that he doesn't really want me to eat them, the black bastard. Nor will he read the Ron Paul tracts. I certainly haven't.
But: a rather normal Saturday anger session between two chicken-headed gals brought four squad cars. In the past our heckling has cleared the table. Now we have police, and with that the possibility of criminal records for the girls we love to watch fight.
Neighborman and I were compelled to intervene, and establish the chicken-headed womens' bona fides, so that the Po-lice might extricate themselves, and we might let the games re-begin.
I reckon if I distribute some Kraftwerk CD's amongst the hoi polloi I might gain some traction. But that is doubtful. Any gift from a white guy carries with it the stigma of Jerry Sandusky at this point. They know I'm white. God forbid they think I am a Yankee.
It's the same in my nabe. It's all okay as long as you can hear the yelling and screaming. It's when things get quiet you need to worry.
I give my neighbor lady things from my table and I know, no matter the love she professes for me, that she pitches it in the trash. Be we laugh together all the same.
Posted by: Joan of Argghh! at June 23, 2012 9:52 PMYankees....in Georgia????
nope just tree frogs and cicadas down here by Honeybee creek
and bluegrass
Posted by: Cletus Socrates at June 23, 2012 11:49 PM"brought four squad cars."
Fuck dat. Let me know when they bring four Apache attack helicopters and level the other side of the block.
Posted by: vanderleun at June 24, 2012 1:33 AMI do loves me a good cat fight.
Posted by: Yabu at June 24, 2012 3:20 PMGerard: heh. I almost sent my little helicopter over on to harass them but my skills are not great. It would have crashed at some point and I would have had to retrieve it. Under gunpoint, no doubt.
Posted by: Velociman at June 24, 2012 5:40 PMAlready had the helicopters circle my back yard.
http://primordialslack.com/?p=2273
Posted by: Joan of Argghh! at June 24, 2012 7:42 PMSounds like here. Gated condos here, eleventy apts. there, a lot of Section eight.
We take bets that the sirens will turn into the apts. instead of the old folks place down the street.
Ah, I recognize that .. it's called Residing.
'Cause it sure as hell can't be called Living.
Posted by: Fukitol at June 25, 2012 2:41 PMHow the +(){# could anyone think you were a Yankee? Effin' Foghorn Leghorn maybe, but not you.
Posted by: Craig Hughes at June 25, 2012 10:09 PMWhen I was a kid in Yakima, Warshington, we lived on a dirty little dead end street a few blocks away from the paper mill. Nasty white trash we all wuz.
Beaudry family was the loudest, meanest family, followed by us, the Couch family and the Slutz family.
One night, Mr. Beaudry drags his wailing wife out on to the front yard and beats her half to death, before the cops come and haul him away.
A minute later, her boyfriend shows up to comfort her in only the way a boyfriend can.
At least their boys are in jail, now.