A rousing evening

A fight broke out across the street last night. It started in the house where black people hang out on the porch and talk loudly. From light nuisance to violently disruptive,  it was the typical dark arc of black people with nothing to do.

Women were shrieking and punching each other. Men were sticking their chests out and getting into each other’s faces. Crude and cretinous men love to put on a show of their supposed strength. They straighten their spines, widen their lats,  tighten their fists, they huff and breathe heavily. Hot headed, furnace faced idiots. Cobras with no venom.

Black women punch hard. They punch as hard as they are egotistical and demanding. Fucking swings of demolition.

I thought about calling the cops. It felt good to think about fucking over the delinquents. But then again I’m a racist. To be fair, had the private rioters been white I still would have relished watching them all get tossed headfirst into paddywagons. I felt like good old Artie Schopenhauer when he offered his opera glasses to Prussian soldier in his room so that they could more precisely target rioting communists in the streets below.

The cops did come, someone had called on them. Given the way people talk these days, I expected the cops to come out with guns blazing. Strong arming, tasering, beatings with sticks, choke holding, bitch slapping, neck snapping, scrotum shredding racist belligerence. Instead the cops merely broke up the fights and held the oppressed people back from injuring or murdering each other. Because of systemic racism.

The cops put one woman in a cruiser and left.  As soon as they were gone the night fighters resumed their cultural practice. The fighting and yelling continued for another half an hour, and then I fell asleep. I had been trying to fall asleep for an early shift the next day when the fight began. In their squalid rage, the blacks couldn’t consider the needs of others. The world shrank to a dark, dense pinpoint of boiling, incoherent anger. Fuck everything else.

Some people (i.e. black) don’t get the concept of public space. They don’t get that different public spaces are defined by different needs depending on their contexts. A neighborhood street at one in the morning is not a space meant for loud, violent behavior. That sort of behavior is the undoing of that space and the way it’s meant to be maintained. But imagine if that thought had magically entered into one of their heads.

Guys, wait, I know we’re about to kill each other over something so petty I’ve already forgotten what it was, but maybe we shouldn’t be making this much noise out here on the streets when people are trying to sleep. Many people in society have jobs which place certain demands of routine upon them, such as going to sleep and waking up at the same time several times a week. It would bother a lot of people and make their lives more difficult if we persisted in our disruptive behavior. Let’s either quietly murder each other in the privacy of our own homes or just call it a night. 

There was a shooting half a mile south of that fight at roughly the same time. I don’t know if it was related. Probably not.

Author: The Empty Subject

Born curmudgeon

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