Ghetto Pride Day
One of the stranger things you see in the ghetto is the summer festival, which is always run by the civil authorities and called something that feels more like wishful thinking than reality. The “neighborhood block party” is really just a free event for the locals, who were thrown together mostly because of public housing or Section 8.
The social workers who organize these things think a day of face painting and free hot dogs will build community spirit. It says something about the organizer who call these neighborhoods “communities.” Typically the word “pride” is shoehorned in somewhere as if you can sprinkle it on the heads of the natives like fairy dust and they will suddenly be proud.
The “community pride” events in the ghetto are about what you would expect. There are loads of single mothers with kids, along with the people from the government to make sure it does not turn into a riot. That means the fire department, ostensibly to entertain the kids, and the cops, often on horseback or maybe motorcycles. Of course, the people are there for free stuff. Community groups that are trying in vain to build community are on always hand, working on their next grant application by taking pictures of kids at their booth.
The pride thing always makes me laugh as the locals haven’t the slightest clue what pride means. How could they? Pride is something you give yourself, through your accomplishments. People in the ghetto are mostly killing time. What they do understand is respect. They are willing to kill over it. The middle-class social workers would get better results if they called these things “community respect” parties, but that sounds scary to the nice white ladies in charge of organizing.
My little slice of heaven had their summer block party yesterday. The authorities setup some games for the kids and they had pony rides and face painting. A church that I did not recognize was giving away hot dogs and sodas. There was some sort of ticket scheme involved to keep the “community” from taking unlimited drinks and hot dogs. The one thing people in the ghetto do well is take free stuff.
Walking around, I was reminded of something that no one discusses today for fear of being called a racist. That’s the slow blending of the races in the underclass. I saw a lot of fat white women with caramel colored kids. You never see black women with caramel kids, of course, but I do see a lot of white women with them. They always have nose rings for some reason too. This is so common, I just assume a white women with a nose ring is down with the swirl.
The other thing I always notice about these things is they schedule them to start mid-morning and be done with by mid-afternoon. You don’t see a lot of males so I guess the timing is deliberate. They know the males roll out of bed closer to sundown, like vampires. If they let the block party roll into dusk it would be a ghetto version of True Blood, where the vampires walk around with their pants falling down, playing with themselves and looking for trouble.
There’s a substantial immigrant community adjacent to the ghetto, mostly people from the subcontinental but there are some Arabs in the mix. The Arabs kit out their women in burkas, which creeps the locals out when they see them. There’s nothing better than seeing the culture clash between the American underclass and immigrants from Asia or Arabia. I always imagine the immigrants wondering how in the hell they keep losing to us.
Looking out at the multicultural paradise today, I’m thinking we’re headed for a bad end. The women in burkas were clustered together and their men were clearly making sure they stayed that way. The subcontinentals seemed to be enjoying themselves, but they made no effort to fit in with the natives. The blacks and the whites in the underclass may be ready to create a new breed of ghetto rat, but the newcomers have other ideas. At some point, that’s going to be a problem.
That’s going to be the Hispanics. I did not see any of them at this thing today. Instead they were down at the soccer field doing their own cookout. I noticed only because I was riding my bike and a guy I know waved me over. For reasons I’ll never know, immigrants like me. Custodio is not afraid to offer his opinion of the natives and he is not wrong in his opinions. Hispanic immigrants may not be rocket scientists, but they’re not idiots either.
That’s another thing no one discusses. Hispanics don’t like blacks and they are not shy about it. Whites have been whipped into submission, but the people flowing over the southern border are not going to sign onto the same program. The Left imagines millions of brown guys lining up to vote for a nice white lady from the university, but I suspect it does not end up that way. Hispanics prefer leaders who sport a thick mustache.
But, maybe it will all workout well.
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