the glory

Man i tell you. There is nothing like the glory of The Hook. It seems like with each passing day, there is some thing that sort of gets right the fuck up under my nails and burns. I mean, i don't mind if the streets is stankin'. That's what you get. I mean, this ain't Palo Alto in the spring time. It ain't like it's gonna smell like star-jasmine and magnolias walking down the streets of Red Hook, or ANYWHERE in new york city for that matter, but I tell you what got under my skin tonight. My goodness.

it's the god damned fuzz. It's not Ken Lay faking his death, or the Japanese saying they want to do a pre-emptive strike on Nuclear Silos in North Korea, I mean, sure. That chaps me too. I mean, where the hell did Japan get an army with missiles? I thought we set that straight the last time? And meanwhile the Prime Minister of Japan and Bush are all lovey dovey over Elvis? Come on. But i told you already. That ain't what's jackin' my ride. It's them stinky new york fuzz. I don't know what the hell they are doing. I mean, okay, somebody's gonna blow up the tunnel? sure. And then, well. Alright. I'll tell you. Here's what it is.

The cops are only down here in force when there's a cruise ship in town, or if it's "opposite side" parking day. And i could give two craps about having a hundred cops down here when there's a boat docked on the shore, or having a dozen faux faux cops WITH GUNS riding around on sissy scooters dishing out tickets on opposite side parking day.

Ok. Here's what happened. The other night, right? there's a gang of hoodlums hanging out. That's fine. I like hoodlums. I like hanging out. Hell. i'm probably a hoodlum, and i hang out. But these hoodlums, well, you know the bad hoodlums when you see 'em. They're the ones you've never seen in your neighborhood before. And suddenly they're there, all up in your grill, and they're hanging out. So these punks right? They start lighting off fireworks. Hey. No big woop. I like fireworks. I like 'em as much as the next guy. I mean, i don't go packing M80's in my shorts or anything like that, but i appreciate i nice floral bouquet with report, if you catch my drift.

So these punks, they start lighting off their bottle rockets. And they start aiming them at us. And the shits are blowing up right in our faces, from across the street. THAT'S hoodlums. You see the difference? It's like the constitution right? No the bill of rights. You know, the whole, "your freedom ends where another's begins" and all that jazz. Well. I say if you wanna blow off fireworks, that's your right. Be free man. Revel in the american glory. But when you start blowing them up in my face, you know? now you're sort of fucking up MY freedom, so you know, your freedom stops right there.

Well you know the cops ain't gonna come out for that, but you call 911 anyway, because as it turns out, if you just call the precinct in your neighborhood, they give you a date and time to come in and make your complaint. It's totally fucked. I mean, I tried it tonight right, because there were these other hoodlums, out in the neighborhood tonight. They didn't have any fireworks, and that's fine, because there were some damned good ones going off across the water earlier, so i've already had my fill of fireworks for tonight, but so dig this. The kids, here's what they're doing these days.

They go around on recycling night, and gather up all the glass bottles and smash 'em up on the sidewalks. Pretty cool right? I mean, who doesn't like shards of glass on the floor? They're great for like, flip flops, or skateboarding, or if you've got a dog, it's just awesome. Maybe you like to ride a bike in your neighborhood? well, if you do, you gotta get this new shit. The hoodlum shit. Grab some bottles and smash 'em all over your sidewalks. That's what they're doing now a days. it's the good shit.

Now, you might think i'm cussing a bit in this post, and you'd be right. Because i am. But just stick with me here. So i call the cops right, and i say "get your god damned stanky assed cops down here." and of course he says if i got a complaint i can come by the precinct on tuesday night between 7:30 and 8.

Um no. I'm not going over to YOUR house. I'm telling you to get on down to MY house.

Well, long story shortened, i have to call 911, because the precinct cops don't work like that. Fair enough. I like it when my cell kicks into emergency mode. Makes me feel like i'm getting my value out of them tax dollars.

Bla bla bla, we'll have somebody there as soon as we can. And i say, soon as you can like, how quick you got 'em down here for the firework hoodlums the other night? Or you mean soon as you can like there's a fucking boat in the harbor? Well. she didn't like that, but you know what? i didn't like her. So we're even. But it's her JOB to get the fuzz out of the donut shops and back on the streets.

Well. The point is, they never came. I sat here and watched. it's been an hour and a half since i called both the precinct and 911 and they never came. But you know what? Tomorrow morning? when the street sweeper comes? Oh yea. they'll be here. They'll have a dozen of those sissy little NYPD scooters down here riding all over hell and high water, up and down the roads going the wrong way on the one ways, guns on their belts, (god knows you need a glock 9 to issue parking tickets, never know when you might have to GUN SOMEONE DOWN for parking on the wrong side of the street) Yea. they'll be down here giving out the hunny tickets to make way for the street sweeper. They'll have at least 8 of them parading around like god damned shriners on their mini-bikes right on dikeman. I tell you what, that really pisses me off.

And then what? comes 10am or 11am or whenever the parking ban is lifted on the left side of the street, they'll disappear again, and the hoodlums will come back out without a fear of anything. they'll be slamming junk on the stoops, smashing bottles on the streets, and keying your car before they slash your tires.

Yes folks. Red Hook. Don't forget i told you so. Now get down here and jack up these fuckin' rents already. Mine ain't HIGH enough yet.

oh. by the way, i took some photos through the Bocas for you. You can see how pretty the world is through the brown bocas.

keep it real. and hey, sorry i was gone for a bit. Things were happening. Friends were wrecking their cars breaking their necks, and falling off of cliffs dying and shit. It was some bummer times. And when it's bummer time, i sort of disappear for a sec. But i'll be back. I mean, i'm back right now. So, you know. There's that.

ah. the good life.

dTown | venting | listening to sparklehorse | 77˚ breezy & really really nice. (except for them stanky fuzz)