Letter to Thug Life (It’s not an open letter because I don’t think they can read anyway)

Dear Thug Life,

 Now that the weather has warmed and the heat of the Kentucky summers has driven you all into your front yard…

 Scratch that.

 “Your decimated mud pit of a stoop” is what I meant.

Now that the heat has driven you into the decimated mud pit in front of your door like cockroaches from the light, it’s time again for the annual summertime Thug-athalon. So far, you’re all getting gold medals in Walking with Droopy Pants, Hootin’ and Hollerin’, and General Asshattery.

Let it be known that we are all talking about how we hate that you are our neighbors. I was informed that you had become current in your past-due association fees which means no action will be taken to foreclose upon you. At a recent association meeting of the condo owners, a good 20 minutes was devoted to general wailing about the state of your place. The irony was that upon returning to our homes post-meeting, there were five police cars in the parking lot, and the cops were searching your house.

They found nothing!

Let’s turn now to the state of Asshat Manor. Last year, you lost your keys so you resorted to climbing in and out of the kitchen window. We saw you. One of you would go through and unlock the Manor for the rest of your Thug friends. Now, I’ve noticed, there is a startling new addition to this window. There is NO GLASS in the window anymore and instead, there is a SHEET OF CLING FILM flapping in the breeze.

Yes, Dear Reader, Asshat Manor now has a saran wrap window.

Luckily, it matches the busted out screens of all the other windows so there’s at least a beautiful symmetry of junk flapping in the breeze.

No one is sure why you resist partying on your patio. Perhaps it’s because if you did, you couldn’t see if any strangers were climbing in your plastic window or the police had pulled up. At any rate, we’ve noticed that some of boards of your patio fence enclosure have been turned into toothpicks and the gate is now propped closed with a hunk of log.

It has also come to our attention that you clearly (still) do not have air conditioning. This is evident by the presence of three box fans propped in your windows (the windows with the flappy screens: see above).

There is also general concern about your canine complement. Everyone knows that no self-respecting meth head or crack dealer would be worth his weight in dope without a Scary Dog. Lucky for your neighbors, your Scary Dog is a pit bull but by all accounts is also Not Mean and also Deaf. The addition of two puppies has been more a nuisance so far and will be evaluated further later in the summer.

Now I come to the most disturbing trend this summer so far, Thug Life, and I don’t know if this neighborhood can take it. I don’t know if the WORLD can take it.

We’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with various members of Casa de la Crazytown, our other Bad Neighbors. Most notably you have been seen to enjoy the company of the Screamy Teenagers and Sid Vicious, their despicable and very bitey miniature Doberman pinscher. In fact, we believe that one of your new puppies is the fruit of Sid Vicious and Nancy, the Screamy Teens’ other mini pin.

Dogs aside, Thug Life, this unholy alliance between the two houses worries me more than words can say. Alone, each is tolerable, but together, all I can imagine is the spacetime continuum of assholes collapsing on itself and sucking my neighborhood into a black hole of evil neighbors.

The event horizon of our condo complex, as it were.

Perhaps this IS the end, Dear Reader.

Perhaps, like a rain of locusts or the last Oprah or Harold Camping’s visions of May 2011, the merger of these unsavory elements can only mean one thing: the Asspocolypse is upon us.



  1. Pingback: The Theater of the Absurd « The Writing Spider

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