Wednesday, June 1, 2011

It's all Compton up in the RP.

So, here's a short one in attempt to get back into the swing of things.'s summer in Rogers Park, which means that all the kiddies, and by kiddies I mean the stereotypical boiz in da hood the news likes to warn us about nightly, finally get to stretch their arms out and shake off the winter blues. Boys will be boys, and after a never ending winter, they're a little stir crazy.

What a better way to release tension and enjoy the summer air than with a peaceful bike ride, down a tree lined street, the breeze gently kissing your skin, the golden ember of a tranquil sun setting magnificently before your eyes.

That and emptying your clip into the the ass of that punk who owes your ass money or some shit that I can't even pretend to understand the dynamics of. I sincerely say I'm sure his reasons were real and totally justifiable in his own mind. But that's another blog for another time.

All I know is, I'm sitting here in my crib, chillin' with my new favorite drink, The Britney Spears Special, (wine and lemonade in a plastic tumbler with a curly straw,) and I hear the echoing sounds of a Saturday Night Special ring through out the courtyard.

Then the whole building gets all 227, hanging out of their windows, myself included, hoping to (not) see a body. Because there's nothing more shiteous than having to hose wash blood stains off of the side walk. That shit never comes out. It's terrible for property value, and attracts ants by the millions.

So, this kid, now that he's sufficiently finished his bike ride, and made his point be known that he was none to pleased with the young man down the block, ditches his bike and gets the fuck outta there before the yuppies can come swarming like ants to a blood stain and bees to honey.

So here's the bees; shootin' up some trick at dusk on a busy street is rude AND unprofessional. Do that shit in an alley, basement, a corn field, a foreclosed house, or some other place where it'll be a while before someone finds that shit. Not where swarms of people can see you, and more so, get hit by your bullets. If you think the cops are going to be all argy bargy about attempted murder of your peers on the street, just think how cranky they'll be if you should kill a tax payer. The Alderman needs that money to make our streets safer. He's doing such a BANG up job of it thus far.

Here's the honey; the whole building came together in unity to compare notes, stare at the cops, play the lambada with caution tape that marked the crime scene, and eye the discarded bike, laying all lonely like in the gateway.

That poor bike. Just a few moments before, it was enjoying a ride with it's owner. Ten minutes goes by, and an elderly man is thinking of ways to grab the thing for himself. I didn't ask why. I just said if it meant that much to him, I would look the other way. That bike was probably stolen three times before. So why not let it live out its life with an old man who'll probably sell it for scrap metal, or possibly use it for his own bike-by shooting?

All snark and shit aside, I'm really not in the mood to spend a summer worrying about getting shot up while I'm walking my pugs, or trolling the streets for parking. With the housing market the way it is, ain't no one going anywhere anytime soon. I'd pack my own heat, but I think it's illegal, and my aim is only good when I'm standing still.

Tis true! I have the paper thing with the outline of the dude on it, all shot up in the kill zone. Not bad for a first timer. But I was in Texas when I did it. Being a good shot is in the air, so you have no choice but to inhale the sweet stench of gun powder, aim, and pull that trigger.

Yup. Not too keen about a long, shoot'em up summer. It'll make me long for the days when I was so fucked up in the head I refused to leave the fucking house. I may have been crazy, but I wasn't worried about getting shot at while walking the dogs.

Until the next time...