Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Kevlar Underoos

Once again the fine upstanding young citizens of our glorious city have shined through in all their glory. Thanks to a wonderfully rich and diverse bit of culture, a bit of booze and someone who thought they heard some fireworks being discharged inside an adjoining apartment (Not mine, just over the river) we reached our 5th death by homicidal shotgun blast of the year. Please join me in celebrating (yaaaaaaay, and there was much rejoicing). Last night around 9pm, while I sat here in the funk that is work on any average Sunday evening, just across town a couple of thugs decided that an arguement at a backyard BarB-Que wasn't quite kosher so they escalated into "pushing and shoving" and "name calling" which leads...obviously to pulling out a shotgun and blasting your guest, pseudo-guest, some random dude that you allowed to have food with you, in dah face. KaBLAMMmmm!!! And the neighbors thought illegal fireworks were going off. Until, of course, they saw neighboring party goers scattering like cockroaches into the street and beyond.

The assailant is at large, and by the looks of the previous mug shots you may want to drive your "car" to the other side of the road while driving past him., should he be on the same side of the road you are traveling on. It's easily one of the scariest looking human beings I have ever seen. (<=inserts IT for HE with reason).

SO, today the cops were of course profiling and any and all motorists that even came close to matching the description were hampered on their daily commute by Police, Sheriff, and NSA agents. The opinion page will be crawling with scathing opression stories, and unhappy city-folk that can't understand why, that, if they look like a dreaded 6'8" 400lb black man with an angry disposition and a bit of a bulldog-ish underbite they got pulled over for no good reason other than police harrassment. "I hope Dr. Chim Richalds weighs in on this one." He hears the pulse of the city. I myself didn't get pulled over, I think it may be that I have a bit of an overbite. It's Hot in the Schenecta'Dirt, jungle hot.

==>Anna: When I was little, we found a man. He looked like - like, butchered. The old woman in the village crossed themselves... and whispered crazy things, strange things. "El Diablo cazador de hombres." Only in the hottest years this happens. And this year, it grows hot. We begin finding our men. We found them sometimes without their skins... and sometimes much, much worse. "El cazador trofeo de los hombres" means the demon who makes trophies of men.<==

Then again, luckily for me such crime never crosses running water, the Oasis is located across the abyss from the 'Dirt, and the last person that got pulled over...over here, recieved a DWI, on his lawn tractor. We dun got John Deeres on dis side o' da ssippi, uz cen keep that thar riff raff ova yondah.

No comments: