Monthly Archives: December 2009

#55: Raising bad kids

Something about ghetto people and raising bad *ss kids. Off the hook *ss kids…some with hook heads. Throwing things at the teachers, cussin’ around town, running around the f*ckin’ store treating it like it’s an Olympic track meet where they can win free Kool-Aid for a year. (Who else resists the urge to trip one?) Since when was a Kmart run a day at the park? If the kids need a place to play, take them to Chuck E. Cheese. Repeat, Chuck E. Cheese, not Cheesecake Factory. This author wants to enjoy the herb-crusted salmon in peace.

Is it that being bad as a child is believed to make you tough enough to handle the real world? Is the parent that burnt out to do any serious child rearing (meaning child development in community college was a waste of financial aid and she may as well have taken cosmetology)? Does mama need her Newport or Black & Mild–or blunt–to cope anymore? (Who knows where daddy is–probably ran away because he knew going in it was no use even tryin’.) Ghetto parents let their kids do just off the wall things. As much sugary bullsh*t as they’re allowed to eat, it’s no wonder these kids just go a million miles an hour tearing up toys, knocking down the glass furniture, making a big mess, and making a parent think of selling them on the black market like Shaniya Davis’s mother (never too soon).

And there is no “it takes a village to raise a child,” because ghetto parents ain’t having anyone say sh*t to their precious jewel of a child. No matter what they did. So of course you can forget about a ghetto child knowing the meaning of accountability, because they’ve been taught they’re bigger than society. There should be a law where you’re allowed to intervene under the right conditions and circumstances, allowed one exception a year of “going chimp” on someone when they’re just doing too much at your expense. OK, maybe not go chimp, because that leaves pretty ugly results, but you should be allowed to dish out a good sound beating like Mister once in a while. Or just flick one like Superman did those beer nuts in Superman III.

Nope, can’t go there, times have changed, so you’re just *ss out like we all are. The kids will be bully-footing their schoolmates and everyone else in the vicinity. Girls hella fast getting knocked up at 13, boys will always itch to wanna do some dirt, drinking and smoking way too young, something illegal or else all isn’t right with the world. This is how they get tried as adults. They may as well be the adults because we’ve turned the world over to them, spoil them, let ‘em do whatever the f*ck they want. After all, at the month of this writing, parents ghetto or not ghetto are out breaking themselves to get their kids the latest expensive gadget or a jacket they’ll get too fat for in a few weeks or a toy they won’t give a sh*t about by MLK’s birthday, all for the sake of holiday spirit. Rewards their ADD-having behinds won’t appreciate because they weren’t taught to.

The babies are not the greatest because instead of teaching them to be, we’re teaching them they already are…and getting results like every douche on My Super Sweet Sixteen.

This could go a billion directions…so could ghetto kids if this author had a 32 oz. Louisville Slugger at his disposal.

#54: Going to court

Don’t get it twisted, ghetto people HATE going to court just as much as anyone does. But after a while, it’s like a complete 360 (no, I don’t mean 180!) is done on the whole saga and one hates it so much you may as well like it, if that makes any sense. You learn how to deal with it. Getting enough tickets or catching enough cases, you just form a routine.

You stop going alone. You start bringing the iPod or Zune to kill time (like this author did, the bwoy was bumpin’). You clear the schedule that morning. And you just kinda free your dome, loosen up, and go there ready for anything. Once upon a time, this author purposely left the whip at home and caught the bus downtown in a throwaway striped hoodie, jeans, and some clapped out Air Force Ones (no they weren’t all-white lows!) because what’s the point of being dipped (and I was still dressed better than the average person who goes) if a) one is doing some grimy *ss hoofin’ it and b) you just might not come home when you’re done in front of the judge?

This author has known dudes who were HAPPY to go to the pen! When asked why, it was because things were settled and the stressful court process was over. When cats are happy to go do their bid in West Bubblef*ck with a bunch of killers sorted out by race and towers of guards with rifles trained on them who will shoot the inmates with bullets they themselves have to pay for (paying to get shot, ain’t that about a b*tch?), that is really telling about court.

And even traffic court has its problems, because the lines are the kind people going to claim GR don’t even want a part of. All kinds of transient degenerates who wear Skechers are in the mix with people mad they get to take a break and trade gridlock on the commute for the gridlock between sheriff’s deputies. All for the pleasure of watching the clerks close windows just to f*ck with everyone waiting in that 1000-deep line to get that extension for that quota ticket they just got over the holidays (and can’t get it out the way, because it’s not in the system yet, which the clerk who’s lucky to have a job is more than happy to let you know with her stank attitude).

May as well blaze or sip on something before going. Need something to make you feel good while waiting with everyone else to get on those funky *ss elevators on the way to the next “here goes nothing” moment.

Crips in New York City?!?

Are you f*cking kidding me?

Unbelievable.

One of those kids is yellin’ “cuzz”…it don’t even sound right in that accent, like a mockery almost.

Far be it from this author to question anyone’s thug thizzle…I don’t even think it’s about turning the streets out on that tip for these particular guys, seems like it’s a rap thing.

This could have been a “You can’t make this stuff up” entry, but it was just beyond bizarre to see this. Don’t get it twisted, I got used to NYC-style Bloods, but I also know that what they do is different. Generally though, it’s like this in my mind, if you’re gonna be thuggin’, the least you can do is stay in your city’s lane. Bay Area do their Bay thing, Chicago and the Midwest stick to Folks and People, New York should stick to Decepticons and razor blades in the mouth and buck fiftyin’ people (not that I want to see that), and Crippin’ and Bloodin’ needs to be left to SoCal and wherever it made its way to pre-The Chronic. For a style of thuggin’ to rise in a place known for a different home brew? It’s just odd.

About as odd as that Champ MC video “Keep It On The Real”, with lowrider Impalas in the middle of the Bronx.

What’s next, Nortenos and Surenos in France or some sh*t?

UPDATE: Researched it some more and it seems that Crips have been around in the Tri-State and other northeast US areas since at least ’96. Doesn’t take away from my idea that NYC just looks weird embracing a foreign style of thuggery. And they could be very true and sincere to this, showing solidarity with SoCal sets and everything. I’m just sayin’, between this and those 508 dudes, the streets are out of control, things done changed.