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A neighbor just told me he has to change his sheets because the bedbugs are starting to complain. 0___o
Me: Whatcha doin?
Love: Flashing our new neighbor.
Me: Shouldn't the curtains be open?
This was originally posted to ADignorantiun.Wordpress on August 15th. I’m reposting it here because last night a neighbor, for whom I had a fair amount of respect, was sitting on her front steps with her eight year old granddaughter, of whom she has custody, smoking pot.
Like I said before, I’m no prude. But there are some things you just don’t do on your front steps, let alone in front of small children!
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Can someone please explain to me the need to roll and smoke a blunt -or do any drug for that matter- on other people’s property? Seriously. Is this just a South Philly thing? …or does this happen everywhere?
I often lament having to live within blocks of a crack house simply because we can’t afford to move. Don’t get me wrong. we live on a great block – mostly. But every once in a while reality comes wandering along with the sweet smelling cloud of ganja gas suspended above his head.
I’m not a prude. Mary Jane and I are old friends. It just would never occur to me to get blazed on the steps of a stranger’s house. It’s arrogant. It’s inconsiderate to your neighbors. It calls attention to yourself, and it’s just plain stupid. Why do it?
At the risk of sounding like the old head that I am, when I was young we smoked weed in private. We knew it was illegal, so we kept it on the down low. These days, young turks think nothing of whipping out a crack pipe while strolling down the street! What the hell, man? Get it together! Little kids live on our block! Do that shit in your own house!
Hanging out on our steps is usually enough to dissuade anyone from toking up on the street. But every now and again some idiot will think we don’t notice and light up. In those cases, just asking the person if (s)he can “please do that somewhere else” is usually enough to send them on their way. But occasionally, some little punk thinks his need to get high is more important than the rights of our neighbors.
The worst is when they try to hide on the steps of the small pentecostal church at the end of our street. Here’s where insolence rises to new heights! What the hell is wrong with people!? Seriously! Have some f*king self respect!
I grew up in an Italian household. Wine was served with every meal. It was a normal part of life. As children, we were never made to feel left out. Our wine glasses were somewhat watered down, but we each had one. If we wanted to taste any of the “adult” beverages, all we had to do was ask. My family knew that the way to make something more desirable is to ban it, so nothing was forbidden. As a result, the mystery was taken out of alcohol. If there’s no mystery, it’s no longer special. We were free to pursue more important things.
Any child psychologist will tell you, the quickest way to get a child to do something it to tell him he’s not allowed to do it. When you remove the restrictions you take away it’s importance. I’m a firm believer in the legalization of marijuana to abate it’s importance. Decriminalization will help reduce drug related crime. Taxing it will help add much needed money to our treasury.
But when I see these kids hiding in doorways or shuffling down the street like zombies, I have to wonder if maybe I have it all wrong.
Originally posted Thursday August 15, 2013 on ADignorantium.Wordpress
…but the subject irks me enough to post it again.
I hate crowds. Always have. They make me anxious and very uncomfortable.
I’m waiting for a friend to stop by so that we can go to a neighbor’s house for their son’s Holy Communion celebration. There’s going to be lots of relatives and friends of family that I don’t know attending this function, so I am very nervous.
Anyone who knows me well enough finds this irrational fear of crowds curious. After all, I was a bartender for two decades. How did I deal with the throngs at the bar if I can’t deal with crowds? The explanation is simple. When I was tending bar, there was a two foot barrier between me and the customers.
Logically, I know that within 30 minutes it will all seem silly. Having delivered the cash stuffed card, I would have settled into a corner with the people I know, and shared neighborhood gossip. But right now, my heart rate is up.
Well, there’s the doorbell. Wish me luck.