Saturday, November 03, 2007

He says your name out loud; In miniature rooms where no one’s found

You are walking down the streets of Philadelphia . Your sneakers rhythmically tread along the old splats of gum that decorate the sidewalk. The weather is changing and you start to appreciate where you are and how you got there. You might even stop and anticipate the official arrival of Michael Nutter as you hope he can save this fatalist empire. Then you stop, gasp and turn you head like a confused puppy. Is that a dead animal? Has a rodent spontaneously combusted leaving minimal remains?

No. It's a fucking weave. They are EVERYWHERE. Just walk down any street in the city and you will see a weave within minutes. Some of them are HUGE and they often get caught in chain linked fences. There are smaller weave remains that float limply off curbs and through the streets. They often act like vacuums as they roll down the street, picking up stones, sticks, trash and even some blunt and cigarette butts.

My question is: ‘How are they ending up on the streets?’ Are they the result of a street/ cat fight that involved women ripping out their opponent’s fake expensive hair? If they are where the hell are all of these scuffles? I am dying to see a chick fight that leaves a woman weaveless. I could see it now.

Woman 1: I told you I ain’t callin’ yo man on no prepaid cell phone!

Woman 2: My man said you been callin him all the time asking if he got tickets to the Keith Sweat show yet! Well…what is it biznitch?

Woman 1: Do not speak ill of Keith Sweat! I am going to rip out your fake expensive hair if you keep addressing me in such a manner.

Woman 2: Eat a dick Beeltch!

(A fight ensues leaving both woman weaveless and searching frantically through their purses for post-fight Newports)

Another hopeful theory is that they accidentally fall out like when guys lose their toupees in movies and cartoons following a sneeze. I could imagine a woman walking down the street, sneezing and hopefully farting at the same time, and her weave goes flying into the night like a bat that needs a haircut. She would act like nothing happened and proceed walking down the street with a lot less hair.

This phenomenon shall be known as the ‘Tumbleweave.’

I had the pleasure of seeing Sunset Rubdown play at the First Unitarian Church early in October. It might be one of the best live shows I have ever seen, solely based on lead singer, Spencer Kruug. This guy plays like he is on FIRE and everyone, including the band, looks at him in awe. He light the place on fire and had time to save us all from the smoke and flames.

Michael Nutter has the best voice out of any mayoral candidate in the history of politics. Imagine someone saying this with an angry Kermit voice, “Police will stop and frisk whoever they want. It’s not a black thing. It’s not a white thing! (Here is the amazing part) I don’t care if you are purple with white polka dots!

He actually said these things recently regarding the current dangerous state of Killadelphia.

Nutter is trying to sound like an authoritative figure, but a combination of the ludicrous, out of left field voice and reference to multi-hued criminals has me a little concerned. Think about all of those purple white-polka dotted people out there.

There is a purple guy standing on the Ben Franklin bridge as we speak ready to jump because of Nutter’s comments. He sheepishly says, “And they think the red heads have it bad. We don’t even have a group on Craig’s List and our soon to be fucking Kermit voiced mayor isn’t going to let me ride down Broad Street in peace. GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD!” SPLASH.