10.01.2009

When you are a "Gansta".

I suppose this dovetails nicely with my last post, though that's really only coincidence talking. Driving down Broadway in North KC yesterday, I went by a car vacuum/air filling station with a big plastic-type sign that read: "WE HAVE GANSTA AIR". This is, of course, really great to know. If I'm ever feeling the need to drop my '94 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme S a few inches and sit it on "Dubs", I'll be promptly draining my tires and pushing that pile back to this place. Can't have the wrong air in there.

Shortly thereafter, at a stoplight, I watched a young man wandering back and forth in the crosswalk waving his right arm for some reason, left hand firmly clenched on the waist of his black potato-sack-wide pants. He had nice sunglasses. Kind of looked like T-Pain. But it occurred to me that for the aforementioned "GANGSTA'S", it must be very hard to get up and around, and to commit crimes and violence in that type of attire. It's a shame that gang members seem to always be getting shot, but I had to wonder if they were making it a little bit too easy. Nobody can run with their pants like that. I've watched people try.

This leaves two options. Option 1: take off the pants. Pants-less gangs. That's kind of more terrifying in a way, but with pants so loose it also wouldn't be much of a struggle to just slip them off in case of emergency. If there is one gang member who gets away in a gunfight because he dropped trou, I'm convinced this is going to catch on in a real big way.

Option 2: someone needs to design "GANGSTAPANTZ". Maybe there's some kind of internal support system. Maybe they come with suspenders. Maybe they're a sophisticated blend of hyper-breathable synthetics with spandex woven in, and a detachable velcro pocket so you can always make sure your "blue flag" is hanging correctly on the "left side".

Imagine the impact this could have on the murder rate. People, I think we have a breakthrough.

_

Now, of course, I write this all in jest. Living here, from my window I hear gunshots almost every night. It's a strange feeling to be lying in bed and hear that "pop-pop-pop-pop-pop" that you wish were something else, but deep down know it wasn't. My mom asked me the other day if the cops always come when that happens and I said, "No. They never come." And sadly, it is the truth. It really makes me wonder how high and wide the disregard has run for this part of the city. It really does.

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