The Churning
4Apr/103

GET OFF MY LAWN!

I have two quick stories for you. The first is a brief email exchange between me and my old pal Jack Mule (who lives in a land far far away).

From: Jack Mule
Subject: rage much?

you ever find yourself raging when a car alarm wakes up your sleeping baby? I wish i had a brick handy to give that car alarm a real reason to go off.

P.S. GET OFF MY LAWN!

From: JJ
RE: rage much?

You know... around here, car alarms typically mean someone's car is getting fucked with. So when I hear one, instead of feeling annoyed I am like uber-pissed. Not at the car, but at the criminals rampaging in my 'hood.

Someone broke into our car a few weeks ago. I didn't hear the alarm, so I didn't have a chance to react. There was nothing in the car to steal. They simply ransacked through the glove box, etc. Fortunately I'm not dumb enough to leave an mp3 player, CDs, or anything else in there overnight. The repairs we're pretty easy, but I ended up having to shell out the $250 deductible.

Another car was broken into last week in the same spot. That was probably the 5th or 6th since we've lived here.

Rage? Sort of. Every time I hear an alarm, I step outside and look up and down the block hoping I'll catch someone in the act. Fuck em if they try to shoot at me or something. No one is that good of a shot in the dark from a distance.

If I did see them, I don't know what I'd do. There's no way I'd start chasing them. I'd at least hope to get a good mental picture. And maybe I'd start yelling whatever intimidating shit I could think of in the heat of the moment. "I swear to fucking god I will destroy you!" or some bullshit like that.

That's story #1. It illustrates the facts that Philadelphia is crime-ridden and I am a little reckless. Story #2 (haha I said 'number 2') corroborates those facts.

A couple weeks ago while I was at work, Lulu saw a suspicious dude parked on our street in a beat up late 90's Mustang. It's not particularly rare to see suspicious people on our street and Lulu probably would have ignored him, but she was ironing in the living room and could see this guy sitting in his car from our front window. The guy was a tall, lanky, ratty-haired white guy in a leather jacket. She could see him, but he didn't realize it.

Side note: If he were black, I may have left his race out of the story because it could be perceived as racist to include that seemingly irrelevant detail. But he was white. And that's atypical in this part of Philly. So in this case I think it's relevant. And it helps you form a better mental picture of the scenario.

Anyway, this dude was sitting in his car much longer than could be considered normal. He was either waiting for someone, or he was up to something. Then she saw him pull some sort of kit out of his pocket. Tiny supplies of some sort. Maybe some tin foil. Perhaps a small tube. And definitely a lighter.

The guy lit up whatever it was and inhaled. He started coughing immediately. And after a couple of hits, the coughing got so out of control that he puked a little on his shirt and jacket. The guy was bombed. The puke didn't bother him a bit. He relaxed in his car for a few minutes, then got up and wobbled down the block and into a house.

We live on a block of rowhomes in Center City Philly. We know our next door neighbors and the people across the street. Families. Good people. But we don't know everyone on the block. There are a few people who live on the block that I've never even spoken to. People I'm not really interested in talking to. He went into one of those houses.

That's when I got home from work. Lulu told me the whole story. I really didn't know how to react. On one hand - who gives a shit if a guy wants to get high in his own car? On the other hand - fuck him; that piece of shit degenerate doesn't belong anywhere near my family.

We decided to leave the guy a note. I really hoped he wouldn't see me. I wasn't looking for a confrontation. I just wanted him to get the message.

I wanted the message to be straightforward and easy to understand. I thought that if I used profanity, it would sound insincere. He had to know I was serious. And he had to feel shame. Also - like a note from a kidnapper, I wanted it to be unidentifiable to prevent him from knocking on our door wanting to retort. I grabbed an empty unmarked brown paper bag and wrote on it with a Sharpie in big capital letters. Then I left the note on his windshield under the driver's side wiper, face down like a parking ticket. Here's what I wrote:

YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE.
GO GET HIGH SOMEWHERE ELSE.
NEXT TIME I'M CALLING THE COPS.

I decided to go with 'cops' instead of 'police', hoping to retain a conversational tone. I kept it clean, while emphasizing a feeling that we live in a neighborhood where people know each other.

The guy came out a couple hours later, read the note, threw it on the ground, and drove off in a hurry. There's a pretty big chance he didn't give a shit. For all I know he thought "fuck you, unknown random stranger" and drove home to smoke some more of whatever it was.

But I hope that's not the case. I hope he felt like he intruded on a safe place with his bullshit. I hope he thought about it A LOT. For hours on end. While watching TV at home later that night. I hope he agonized over it. I hope he felt scrutinized and judged. I hope he felt weak.

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1Feb/106

When is it okay to punch a kid in the face?

Is it ever acceptable to clench your fist, cock your arm back, and smash a kid right in the jaw? No? What if he's 17, taller than you, and he just stole an old lady's purse then knocked her to the ground? See, I knew I could convince you.

There are plenty of scenarios that could fall into this gray area. Just think of some crazy shit - like a teenage serial killer who took your family hostage. You might be ethically justified in teaching him a lesson.

Hmmm... Is that even legal though? Let's say you see your daughter's 16-year-old asshole boyfriend punch her in the jaw like that dude who socked Snooki. Could you get arrested for punching him back? What if you catch a teenager trying to steal your wallet? Could you face jail time for giving him a black eye?

The thought came to me recently on the way home from work. Center City Philly. It's dark out and I'm walking through a sketchy part of town. I see a group of questionable teenagers roughhousing on in the street. I thought - what if these kids decide to start fucking with me? A lone white guy quietly walking through their neighborhood with no other adults in sight. Truth is, they'd destroy me in a fight. But I could probably manage to land a couple of jabs.

So in that scenario - what happens legally? A group of 15 and 16-year-old boys. A couple of them with black eyes, maybe even one with a broken nose. Then a 34-year-old yuppie beaten to a pulp. Would I face charges?

Okay, that's enough setup. Most of you probably agree there are instances where a kid might deserve an uppercut to the jaw. Now that I've roped you in - consider these situations:

  • You're on the bus and you see a kid call an old lady a bitch.
  • Two kids walk up to you yelling racial slurs then start pushing you, trying to start something.
  • You walk outside late at night and catch a kid reaching the broken glass of your car's window, trying to steal your shit.
  • You're walking on the sidewalk, when a car full of teenagers drive by slowly and throw a bag of shit at your face - then they are forced to stop half a block ahead because of traffic.

Punch or no punch? And what's the age limit? For any of the scenarios above? Maybe it's easy to say you'd knock out a 17-year-old thug. But what if he's 16, 15... 14?

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12Sep/095

Philadelphia Hipsters

After living in Philly for the past 5 years, I think maybe I've become oblivious to certain things that make this city unique. Here's an example. My old pal Elvis came down for a weekend visit from New York. It was his first trip to Philadelphia. Elvis noticed that lot of people in this city have visible tattoos. Not tramp stamps or tribal arm bands, but full on sleeves and giant leg tattoos. Regular people in their 20's and 30's hanging out at Sabrina's for brunch or taking a leisurely stroll through the Italian Market.

It's true. There's definitely a higher ratio of people with tattoos in Philly than in other places I've been. I think it has something to do with this city's hipster population. Not only do you see a lot of tattoos here - you also see dudes wearing giant plastic retro sunglasses, skin-tight cutoff jean shorts, and old school Chuck Taylors. I'm not suggesting that everyone with tattoos is a hipster - I just think that the sheer number of hipsters alters the city's vibe. It makes tattoos seem normal, so people who move here from other areas feel comfortable getting that ink they always wanted.

I guess that creates an interesting mix of hipsters, yuppies trying to look tough, indie-yuppies, and neo-hippies - all sporting tattoos. It's the hipster influence! Now, I've already used the term "hipster" five times in this post. Okay, six counting this last one. So before I go further I should mention that hipsters hate being called hipsters. At least that's the case in Philly. It's one of the ways you can identify a true Philadelphia hipster. There are also a few generalizations that can help you know the difference. I mean - if you're into labeling people, you judgmental asshole. Here's a primer.

Always True

  • Hipsters always wear at least one item of clothing or fashion accessory that yuppies would be embarrassed about
  • Hipsters have friends
  • Hipsters are into music
  • Hipsters hate being called hipsters

Generalizations

  • Hipsters drink cheap beer like PBR or Lion's Head
  • Hipsters don't drive, they walk or bike
  • Hipsters hate commercial radio, even the alternative rock stations
  • Hipsters think you are not cool

I hope this doesn't make me seem anti-hipster. Or if it does - whatever. Hipsters won't take offense anyway because they are unwilling to define themselves as such.

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30Jun/0916

Jurors are big fat babies

People hate jury duty. It's the one day when adults are forced to act like adults - and that's fucking bullshit. When you get your summons in the mail, the letter reminds you of a few basic rules: dress appropriately, leave your cell phones and weapons at home, and show up on time. Then when you first arrive, you are bombarded with signs reminding you of those same basic rules. A couple others are added, like no smoking in the courthouse, and no food or drinks.

Rules rules rules. Fuck rules. There was a huge line at the security check-in, where court officers were confiscating cell phones (you can get it back at the end of the day) and telling people to throw away their food and drinks. People were pissed. They were in sheer disbelief that a court officer would have the balls to tell them they can't bring a fountain Coke into the building. And how dare you take my cell phone!

These people, by the way, were mostly dressed in shorts, tshirts, jeans, even tank tops. Fucking slobs. Luckily for them, the court won't turn someone away for being dressed like an idiot. Being charged with contempt of court would be a huge pain in the ass. Because then you'd have to come back - only this time you wouldn't be in the jury box.

Once you get inside, there's a lot of waiting. Sitting around on hard wooden benches and chairs while counting the hours. Got jury duty anytime soon? Better bring a book. Or two.

And how do adults act when they are forced to wait around in silence? Like little fucking children, that's how. It's really not that hard to understand. You're in court. There are cases going on all around you. Life or death shit. And some of that shit is in the newspapers. So the next rule is: No fucking talking. The court officials can't have their jurors discussing any ongoing trials, and the easiest way to make that happen is to prevent them from talking. Well it sounds easy anyway.

You know what happens when you tell a 3 year old to sit still and keep quiet? They can't stand it. They giggle and jabber and fidget. Just like a Philadelphia juror. To me, sitting still for a day while reading a good book isn't that difficult. It's actually kind of nice to have a little peace and quiet - to get a break from my stressful workweek. To the average juror, it's torture.

Throughout the day, people were laughing and chatting, and eating and sleeping. Somehow, several people managed to sneak their cell phones into the building (shit - if they can sneak cell phones in, does that mean people could sneak weapons in too?). So cell phones were ringing every few minutes. And people snuck food in too. Some fat chick pulled a family size bag of chips out of her oversized purse and chowed the fuck down.

So after you've waited several hours, you enter the jury selection process. That's when they choose 14 people for a trial out of your group of 50 or so. During this process they ask a lot of questions. Things like - would you believe a police officer's testimony over that of anyone else just because of their profession? Can you understand that just because someone is in custody does not mean they are guilty - that they are innocent until proven guilty? Can you set aside your personal prejudices and give your opinion on this case simply based on the evidence presented?

Several people saw these questions as their opportunity to get out of serving.

Judge: "Would you believe the testimony of a police officer over someone else just because they are a police officer?"
Childish weasel of a juror: "Yep."
Judge: "What if I asked you to set aside the officer's profession and treat their testimony just like the testimony of anyone else. Could you follow that instruction?"
Childish weasel of a juror: "Nope."
Judge: "So you're telling me you always believe what an officer says simply because of their job?"
Childish weasel of a juror: "Yes."
*Judge winces, knowing that the juror is just trying to get out of serving.*

This happened a few times with various questions. One guy even claimed he would be unable to discuss the case with the other jurors during deliberations - because after that conversation he would be unable to form his own opinion. He'd be too influenced and intimidated by the other jurors.

You know what? How about you act like an adult and follow the judge's instructions? This is Philadelphia. Birthplace of the Declaration of Independence. Other countries don't give their citizens things like the right to a trial by a jury of your peers, the right to a speedy trial, or the right to decline to testify in court. This is the fucking judicial system. How about you quit making excuses, quit trying to sneak food and cell phones into the courthouse, and quit acting like a fidgety, giggling child.

Listen - jury duty sucks. It really really sucks. But let's all agree that we all share the same obligation to serve on a jury from time to time. Let's show up when summoned, wait quietly as we meet our responsibility, and act like adults for one simple fucking day.

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28Jun/097

Jury duty is fun

Last time I was summoned to jury duty, I wanted to do whatever I could to get out of it. Nowadays things are super fucking stressful at work, so I'm actually looking forward to a relaxing day chilling at the courthouse.

I've got the Pahlaniuk book Rant to finish and I'm a couple issues behind with Sports Illustrated. I'm thinking tomorrow will be pretty laid back. If all goes well, I'll waste my day waiting and waiting - then I'll get to go home and be done with it. Worst case scenario, I'll get picked for some bullshit trial that lasts several days (or longer). I'll cross my fingers. Wish me luck.

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