One of the drawbacks of living in the city is being forced to ‘enjoy’ obnoxious music blaring from vehicles driven by testosterone-challenged Neanderthal vulgarians. Somebody please invent a device that, when aimed at the offending loudster, either scrambles the CD, tape or 8-track or switches the radio station to classical, easy-listening or worst yet for the ego, polka!
The viaduct in Chicago at Roscoe and Kostner Aves. gets tagged with gang graffiti every few weeks or so. With all the Big Brother surveillance we have at our disposal, why not invest in a camera to snap a shot of these guys (it’s usually males who vandalize). The video of them tagging could then be posted on YouTube with the caption, “Young men get in touch with their feminine side by attempting artwork before sashaying off to see Sex and the City.” To bring these delicate flowers down, go for the jugular, their masculinity. Real men don’t need to deface property, and it doesn’t matter what orientation they are, if you get my drift.
These boneheads have too much time on their hands. What they need is to discover something more glamorous than vandalizin’, shootin’, gangin’ and druggin’. How about some farmin’? With the ultra-high price of food these days, we could use more community gardens in Chicago. How about that site on the South Side where the Wal-Mart was scotched? There are some neighborhoods that are veritable food deserts and they have plenty of vacant lots. This would provide income and nutritious food to these areas while giving former gangbangers a healthy dose of self-respect. Come on, ’bangers, help us out here! Invest some of that excess energy in the most glamorous act of all: sustaining the human race.
Speaking of masculinity and the lack thereof, if a certain columnist from a certain Chicago newspaper expended as many nouns and verbs castrating true criminals as he does trying to make Barack Obama look swishy, maybe we would stop calling them drug lords and instead call them by their rightful name, drug pansies. Kinda changes your perspective, don’t it.