Sarcasm Alley

In the Land of Milk and Honey when you die they think it's funny

cheshyre grin

cheshyre grin
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Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come
Birthday
January 01
Title
The One True
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An ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own.
Bio
Quit your snooping, bitch.

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JANUARY 29, 2012 5:25PM

Noize In The Hood

Rate: 11 Flag

I had fallen asleep with the bright reading light shining in my eyes. Books are my only respite from the hell-world I live in and the instant my mind is distracted from that hell I tend to fall asleep. I need the rest more than I can let anyone literally know.

Buzzing in my ear like an annoying mosquito, I hear this angry black chick yelling somewhere around my apartment building. The buildings are close enough to cause an echo so I couldn't pinpoint her exact location. She was going back and forth with some dude in another building and the bitchiness of their argument finally awakened me. That's when I heard the first fully audible line from the girl.

"I don't know why I'm even talking with you! All you men is just shit anyway!"

Livid at being forced in as an unwilling participant - and maybe to stick up for my gender as well - I furiously slid open my window to reply in earnest. "Good! Then maybe you'll shut the fuck up!"

To my amazement it worked and I silently slid back my second story window so as not to press my luck. I was a bit proud of myself. Not very often do I stick up for my rights but the bickering pair caught me at a weak moment. A moment when I didn't give a shit if I lived or died. They respect that here in my neighborhood. Welcome to hell's kitchen where even the devil fears to tread.


Living in the ever growing underbelly of America is like living in a boiling pot - with the lid on. It's a 24/7 pressure cooker, a little voice inside of you constantly bleating, "This can't go on! This can't go on!" It's not just me, it's everyone thinking that. That shared bondage is our only sense of community. After that it's all dog eat dog.

I heard the lying, cocksucking President said, "America is back!" All I could think when I heard that was that someone needs to shank his ass. That way he can get back on that podium and speak the truth: "America sucks! We need to change!" See, man, we see things like they are here. Everyone is an animal looking to profit at the expense of someone else. Starts with some asshole President - and they're all the same to us - then it trickles down from there. Is there anybody not trying to pee on me and tell me it's raining? Anybody at all??

I look at the clock. 1:45 AM. Loudmouth assholes just had to wake me up when it's hard enough to sleep as it is. May as well try the book again. It's my refuge but also isolates me. I doubt if there's one fucker in a five mile radius who would care to read it. They would feel threatened by its smartness and look for any cheap shot to take at me in return. It's an anti-world here in the underbelly. It's all about what weapons you got in the game of survival.

"This can't go on! This can't go on!"


My weapons are few. Slight of build and non-confrontational, I can't bark like the big dogs do. They know that too. You're constantly sized up here, probed for any weakness. I'd be dead in the water if it weren't for my intelligence. I don't have enough to be what is called a success, just enough to get me by. The Pedal Jack I bought for my car saved it twice from being stolen out of the parking lot. Most thieves have never seen one and couldn't break it if they had. I searched long and hard for something to keep my car safe. It's only by the thinnest of margins I survive.

Grabbing the book allows me to push all that out of my mind. I know if I ever stray too far from that reality the constant tricksters around me would be more than glad to take advantage of that lapse of vigilance. We're all just barely getting by, struggling to face the horror before us: there's no way out. We laugh at the grand rhetoric and all the TV idiots who lament our plight on one hand then promote the causes of it on the other. Amazing the number of morons who still exist believing some politician is going to save them. I don't think anyone here is more honest, we just don't have the luxury of both lying and living.

After a few drifting minutes back in bed I hear the most glorious of sounds: party girls laughing. Not sure what I can do about getting them. Maybe I'll just run down the hallway and out the building naked and show them my dick. If they're cool they'll let me talk to them with my boner. If not, they'll call the police and tell them I ruined their lives and they need a hero to save the day. Either way, I need to look at them first.

I reach up to turn the light off so I can look out without being noticed. I turn the knob but the goddam light stays on! I turn it again and again but nothing! Of all the fricking times for it to fail! Jesus! I debate twisting the bulb out but it's too hot. Hurry, those babes are leaving! Finally I fall out of bed, hitting the floor with a jolt. Then I realize it had all been a dream. No women, just fatal wishful thinking.

"This can't go on! This can't go on!"


Nooky is as prized a possession as cash here. There's a superstar chick in the building west of me. I've seen her walk past with her fine legs and bare feet. She's way out of her boyfriend's league and I wonder if she knows it yet. I'm thinking he caught her early before she knew her true worth, what men and boys would do for her. I don't dare compete for her. Even if I win I lose because I'd have to fight off every guy for the rest of my life. There are no "career paths" here, so getting the best nooky you can is all the more paramount.

The head chick in the leasing office has some fine legs too. She's engaged but I heard her telling the mail lady the compliments she got on her legs. No one cares if you're married, engaged or whatever. All they care about is a 'yes' or 'no'. True love gets tested here! I know I wouldn't give a damn if I got a shot at those legs. A few moments to feel alive again, we're all starved for that to one degree or another. But then again I'd have to forget that late notice she gave me and the $25 fine which really pissed me off.

In the whitewashed world it's all daisies and buttercups. Your 40 year old virgin scores the hot chick and it's all cute and funny and sunshine. Here he'd get ass beat and mocked by the party babes. Shit, man, I don't know anyone who lives anywhere close to the movie fantasy world! The flow of propaganda coming down from all corners is a major mind fuck. What are these people trying to prove? That we don't exist? Probably so. But I'm here, I'm breathing. Best pray to God, motherfuckers, that we really don't count or hell is coming to eat you alive in your worst nightmares come true.

"This can't go on! This can't go on!"


At the hospital where I buff the floors, Vietnam vet Richard works in the surgical unit, cleaning up the blood and guts at the end of the day. We share lunch time in the surgical lounge sometimes and I love it because Richard plain does not give a shit anymore. I'd pay a million dollars to put him on one of those talking head shows. When his foot flares up from his war injury, he really gets on a roll on the ills of the world.

"You know who the real chickenshit cowards are? It's anyone who joins up. You know why? 'Cause they got no fucking idea who the real enemy is. They're brainwashed to think it's some devil 10,000 miles away. But the real devil is the bastard putting a rifle in your hand telling you, "Kill! Kill! Kill!" That's the fucker they oughtta shoot!"

Richard gets red faced when he talks like this. Some nights you hear him kicking the mop bucket, screaming at it in vain, but then walk out with a smile for the world. That smile has seen a lot.

"Yeah, stupid young punks. None of them got the guts to stand up to the fuckers sending them into shit. If we shot all those fuckers we could live in peace in this world. Why the fuck do we listen to them? Why the fuck do we listen, Harry?"

His eyes drift off. What he really means is why did he listen. And the poor bastard kids are suckered today same way they've always been. The old prey on the young with a vengeance, pushing all the right buttons, cackling in glee when they die, saluting them in solemn honor at the funeral. Always someone waiting for you to make that one mistake, not listen to your instincts, to give in to your insecurities and lead you down the road to death. Animal kingdom rules the world.

"This can't go on! This can't go on!"


Come to the laundromat in my hood. Think you could handle it? Look at the single mothers overrun by their children, people bonding in their pain, dead souls trapped till the day they die just going through the motions, desperate teenagers eyeing their parents' fate in fear it may be theirs, hard working souls never given a fair shake, voices speaking truths that would outrage any preacher, politician or pundit - it's all there in a microcosm. Judge them to become them.

The scratched up TV blares depressing daytime shows catering to the lowest common denominator. The producers believe people just want to see the shit in others' lives. Apparently, the Korean owners think the same having chosen this channel. Truth is, shows trolling for despair are about the only times we see ourselves publicly admitted. I heard this six-figure local radio guy the other just livid about people's desire to get on TV, to get their face out there. No, cocksucker, people want to LIVE. We want someone to admit we exist, that our country is broken and it's time to stop giving the rich a free ride.

Equality won't kill us just because you assholes think it will. All it does is give us a future.




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Comments

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Superstar chick left Vanilla Ice wannabe and moved in with a latino from another building. Wonder what she would think if she knew she could get $100,000+ on the open market?
She'd probably dump the latino and go with $100,000+!!!

Trust me, I've been dumped for less!! :(

:D
This just reached out and grabbed me. You do have a way with words, sir. Why don't you send Superstar an anonymous note telling her?
A howl from the gut that's impossible to ignore. You paint a picture so vivid it brought back memories of my brother and where he lived for too long in the worst projects in Toronto. He was slight, non-confrontational and hyper-intelligent just like you. You are the real deal.
I'm curious: is that your kitty?
You're so right, This can't go on. And you've pointed out why with a totally righteous rant.
Yeah, it's always interesting to see how the hot chicks parlay their wares, Tink. Some want money. Some want satisfaction. Most probably want both. But some are afraid to claim their worth, thinking that makes them a bad person. It would be great if a study of that could be done somehow.

Thanks, lilly. Sometimes you have to write or explode. I wish I had the skill to really convey how this is carried around in you, that you're in an invisible prison. Kurosawa tried that in "Lower Depths" but it didn't really work for me. When people spout out facts and figures about the working poor, they don't realize the confining nature of those facts. You can't unless you've lived them.

phyllis, to quote Dirty Harry, "A man's gotta know his limitations." That's key to survival in the jungle. It's a common con for people to try and make you feel great and think you can have more than you can have. If you fall for that, that's when they go into selling whatever it is they have to sell. "What? You don't want to be my friend? Come around this corner here and I'll sell you a cheap joint, buddy." They work you hard! Same goes for chicks.

I feel sorry for your brother, emma. It's like any other prison, you have to let them know they can't walk all over you. You have to be willing to "lose it" at times like I did at the window. That's not really me but you don't let them know that. The kitty pic I found searching for something else. Mine is a tuxedo cat, my pride and joy :)

Sally, it's a feeling of impending doom, of being one catastrophe away from oblivion. Here, you see first hand on how there's no room for error or human weakness. People just get washed away and most of the time you never know what happens to them. Part of me being strung out is my own fault in the mistakes I've made, but the pressure exacerbates it and causes the mind fucks like hearing women not actually there just because you need to.
I loved this very well written piece Harry and echo much of it.
I lived in some ghetto apartments outside of Toronto, Ontario that this could have been written for almost word for word, if you had some immigrants from Asia and eastern Europe instead of Blacks and Latinos.

Same ole same ole to the rest though.

And life in this giant trailer park here in St Pete ain't much different at all....

Thanks for the memories..
There are endless untold stories of the poor and working poor - the 48% - that can be told, Mission. Every once in a while a story bubbles to surface but no one remarks on it as an unsustainable trend like they should, that this is an emergency situation requiring immediate treatment. America is bleeding and her answer is to keep her eyes closed.