Last night, a guy on Facebook announced that he no longer feels safe in my hometown — population 12,000 — because the Gangster Disciples are taking over. He knows, because they marked their territory by throwing a pair of tennis shoes over a power line near the high school.
Actual conversation, complete with atrocious spelling and incoherent grammar:
ME: Are you talking about that same pair of shoes that’s been hanging from the power line at 11th and __________ since the Carter administration?
GUY: no this are newer.
ME: Ah, well. Nothing lasts forever. I suppose even the most durable items wear out and have to be upgraded now and then.
GUY: and they are not on 11th street are even close to it. they are in be twine 10th and 9th.
Oh. Between 10th and 9th. Well, that’s different. If they were at 11th, they would simply be a continuation of something that’s been going on since 1979. But a block and a half east? Oh noes! Lock up your women and children, because what we have here is clearly no ordinary bully decorating the power lines with shoes he stole from the dork he beat up in gym class. We are obviously dealing with a well-organized band of professional criminals WHO HAVE COME TO KILL US ALL!!!!1!!!!!ONE!!!!!!!!!
Ah, but fear not, good citizens: Our oh-so-articulate friend has proposed a solution to the problem: “i thank we need to put up the old sighs that said don’t let the sun set hit you in the ass as you live.” (sic)
I can’t decide which is more embarrassing: The fact that signs like that actually existed at one time, or the fact that in 2011, there are still people in my hometown who approve of them.
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