Ode to the Ghetto

The ghetto gets a bad rap from the media.

I happen to love the ghetto.

Nowhere else can you hit the bootlegger for after hours beer.

Nowhere else can you hire a guy to drive you to hell and back for $10.

Nowhere else can you find an alley mechanic that rivals any hoity-toity shop and pay $30 for a $200 job.

Nowhere else does opening the fire hydrant bring every kid in the neighborhood absolute, unfettered joy.

Nowhere else can you get credit at the corner store until payday.

Nowhere else do the gangbangers come together on a Sunday afternoon and clean the entire neighborhood, then, host a barbecue afterwards.

Nowhere else do the gangbangers keep out thieves and drug dealers.

Nowhere else can you tell a friend in the ghetto network you need a TV and one shows up within a few hours.

Nowhere else can you sit on your front porch and know everyone that passes by, and their families, too.

Nowhere else can you buy a $.35 bag of chips and for $.25 more, get them drowned in hot, nacho cheese.

Nowhere else can you get corn in a styrofoam cup, loaded with cheese, paprika and mayonnaise.

Nowhere else can you buy socks, shoestrings and 100ft. telephone cords from a guy dressed like Nanook of the North on a 90* day.

Nowhere else do you find a car owner so proud of who he is that he turns his Impala nameplate into a PImpala nameplate.

Nowhere else do women modify gramma-esque shopping carts into baby strollers.

Nowhere else does an entire block save their aluminum cans for the one lady on the block who holds church in her home every Sunday morning and uses the cans to help the homeless.

Nowhere else can you go and tell the 'boys' that someone tried to touch your girly bits and the 'boys' handle it with much more aplomb than the police ever could.

Nowhere else has bartering down to a science.

I love the ghetto and wouldn't live anywhere else.