Why I’m Moving: Vol. 1

So yeah, we’re moving. Not because my street is inhabited by 93% black people, not because the S.W.A.T. team likes to play across the street, not because of that guy who got shot in a crack fight and then got run over by a car, not because we got robbed..but because ALL of these things. There’s only so much humor that can be had by being INSIDE the police tape because someone else inside that tape is a gun-wielding, crack-snorting retard, and his helmet is missing.

I’ve learned a lot by living within the city limits, things like living in District 3 means it takes about a half hour to get a cop to your house. If you die, at least the 911 operator will get to hear it. I’ve learned that BW-3′s is THE place to be if you’ve just stolen a car. I’ve learned that all black men go by nicknames, like Jay-Jay, Wee-wee or “Big Shot” (he lives down the street and his real name is Michael Jackson). Also, because District 3 is so large, if you think someone might be hurt in place of police officers 911 sends Firemen. Some firemen are hotter than others, but I think that goes for all fire fighters. Like in West Chester, where they make the rookies by groceries at Meijer..and some rookies are pretty (like Ryan Reynolds) and some rookies look more like a male Alanis Morisette.

Today I was sitting on the couch and I heard the screech..you know the screech. And I was like WAIT FOR IT….BANG! So I’m thinking “SWEET!” because I enjoy instant gratification. So I run to the front door and open it and I see a cavalier with a dodge caravan planted in the trunk, and lots of smoke..then I see the caravan in reverse and then I see it speed off..air bags deployed and everything. Nothing says “I’m a wanted felon without car insurance” like a hit and run. So, because I’m a responsible citizen, I called 911. I explained the situation, and it took less than 5 minutes for a cop to arrive. While I’m on the phone, I look up and I’m like “I’m in a Dane Cook sketch”. No Lie, there were people EVERYWHERE, literally in bushes, balconies, porches, windows..and I couldn’t just not laugh at the irony. Back to the cops arriving..they get there in 5 minutes. So…lesson of the day for me: if your house gets robbed, CPD will be there when they finish their “business” at Dunkin Donuts. If you are in a hit and run, they’ll be right over. I should’ve gotten hit by a car that day, it may have sped up the process. Anyways, so I stand there forever because I thought they might need a witness statement, but apparently not. Now, I am just going to ranty rant about the CPD for a bit, because I can. Why is it that I get the SHAFT from the police? Their excuse for time delays on processing evidence collected from my house “well, we caught a serial rapist this week.” Well, that’s all good and well but don’t I pay taxes as well? Am I less important because I didn’t get raped by the Insane Fubu Posse (IFP…they don’t throw faygo, they throw 40′s..or FO-TIES as the locals would say). I mean, I understand the need to prioritize but seriously….2 cops pull these boobs over and they can’t even taze them? What if they come back to my house for the phat farm?? I will be more than raging pissed…..I’ll also be wetting myself.

So yeah, I’m giving up the busy street life here to move to a quiet cul-de-sac in West Chester (hopefully). Violent Crime Stats in 2002 for West Chester were 1.2 violent crimes for every 1000 people. Plus, subdivisions = nosy neighbors = at least someone will see the person who robs me the next time. There’s ALWAYS a depressing upside.

Here’s a forgotten picture that should’ve gone with my last post, slightly modified, here is the senior citizen who was arrested for a 1978 murder: