Bullshit

Per my Twitter post, the parties at the Metropolitan still continue.

You know the thing that absolutely kills me?

Is that these parties wouldn’t happen if this facility was located in Hyde Park.

Or even next to Rev. Finney’s home.

For those of you who don't know, the Metropolitan is housed in the former Christ Apostolic Church which moved to Bronzeville several years ago. Public records indicate that the building is still owned by the The Woodlawn Organization which is closely identified with the good Reverend.

I’ll bet money that if this foolishness happened in his neighborhood, that his neighbors would have him tarred and feathered.

Yet for the sake of the almighty dollar, my block has to play host to groups of people who cannot seemingly act like respectful human beings.

Kind readers, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again---Whoever is booking these parties is courting disaster in so many ways it boggles the mind.

This facility is a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Security and/or supervision are non-existent.

Seemingly anyone who has the money can rent the facility.

Guidelines---What’s that?

It also seems that a majority of the groups that patronize the Metropolitan also attract a crowd that believes it’s a good idea to throw their empty liquor bottles and trash on the parkway.

Saturday morning the ‘hood looked green and pastoral, Sunday morning it looked like unadulterated shit.

It looked like a trash hurricane rolled through this bitch and deposited every liquor and beer bottle advertised on billboards saturating this side of town.

Now you would think that Mt. Carmel’s lawn crew would pick up the trash as they mow the lawn.

Unfortunately that is not the case.

Instead of picking up the trash, they simply throw it in the street compounding the problem.

Bottles break, gutters are blocked with debris, when it rains the street becomes a swamp.

Delightful. Simply fucking delightful.

So the question is this: Rev. Finney, why is this allowed to happen?

Oh yeah---

Have someone pickup the trash that is all over the Metropolitan’s lawn. It looks horrible.

Shoes

It's your turn to talk back.

Tell me about the wearers of these three pairs of shoes. Who are they? What do they do for a living? Where were the pictures shot?

Let's see if your perception equals reality.

Just Wondering

Jobs---Check.

A store full of fresh fruits and vegetables---Check.

Partnering in key community inititives---Check.

Tax Revenue---Check.

So why can't this Walmart get built?

Mystery Solved?

It appears that the mystery of the rehabbed building down the street has been solved.

It’s a rental. A few tenants are already in the building.

I’m gonna be honest with you, I really thought the project was going to go condo.

Why?

The finishes seem above the basic contractor staples that you see throughout most rental buildings.

The floors are gleaming (Real wood? Laminate?) and the appliances are stainless.

You heard me right---stainless.

That’s some high livin’ those kids are doing down there.

All this begs the question, is the building owner renting out the units until the real estate market turns around or is this their first development?

Because who would put high end finishes and a stainless appliance package in a rental?

This ought to be interesting.

Enough

Blaming Burr Oak families for this tragedy is like blaming Catholic families for not keeping their children away from pedophile priests.

Now mind your manners and act like decent human beings.

That is all.

Heavy Sigh

Frank (or one of his relatives)has decimated the flowers on the back porch.

My refrigerator just died yesterday.

This is on top of the huge vet bill AND the unemployment countdown.

Do not be surprised when the Paypal tip jar appears in the sidebar---it's coming.

Turn About, Part 2 or Who’s Really In Charge?

As I observed earlier, the proximity of urban living and natural living often provide for some interesting sights.

This is perfectly underscored when I go to tend to my little piece of paradise in the urban garden.

As a side note, I find it somewhat hilarious that my maternal grandparents came up from Mississippi in the great migration so I wouldn’t have to do this for a living.

That makes it deliciously ironic that I do this of my own accord.

Because of this, the urban garden is lovingly referred to as the plantation.

The glaring difference is that I don’t have to worry about an overseer with a bullwhip. I have to worry about ducking golf balls.

I wonder if slave holders seriously pondered the effective use of lobbing golf balls at the free labor pool as a means of physical intimidation.

I think they could have seriously saved money on security costs by simply installing a golf course next to the cotton fields.

Then it would have made the balls difficult to find.

But I digress…

As I tended to my fledging vegetables I noticed that a murder of crows quietly amassed on the new pergola.

They just sat there and seemingly stared at me.

I had already put two and two together and realized that they were just waiting for me to leave as my plot is close to someone who’s growing corn. Those bad boys just wanted to ravage the stalks for anything they could get.

At that time, I also noticed some shady, questionable gents loitering along the path.

You know the type---shiftless looking, poorly dressed in ill fitting attire who only come to a public park for reasons that isn’t entirely recreational.

At least in the “legal” sense.

The thought that popped in my head was “Great, I have two groups of murderers within twenty feet of me. They should get together and start singing ‘If I See An Elephant Fly’ from Dumbo.”

I started giggling. Sometimes I just slay myself with my own rapier like wit.

Luckily for me both groups eventually moved on.

As I was locking up, I heard a rustle by the tree line.

Much to my amazement (but not surprise) a HUGE raccoon came out and crossed in front of me.

I think he was just as befuddled to see me as I was to see him.

Like most of my other neighbors, I know he exists but I hardly expect to see him.

As he lumbered across my path with one eye on his destination and the other on me, I could have sworn he chucked the deuces my way.

Seeing that some of my animal neighbors could at times have rabies, I cut a wide berth around my masked friend.

When he reached a thicket of wild field greens and started to dig, I just looked. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to get anywhere near his territory.

Plus I was pondering how strong the fence was around the urban garden.

As he was searching for food, he looked up as if to say---“Is there something else I can help you with?”

I caught the hint and started walking home.

But the last critter in this hit parade of urban fauna is a cute little bunny I usually pass as I walk home from the train on Dorchester.

Or at least what I thought was one cute little bunny.

That, my friends, is literally a story unto itself.

Rack 'Em

I swear that animals will be the death of me.

After almost a week at the vet's due to severe constipation (don't ask), my cat Midas has racked up a whopping $327.81 vet bill.

Looming unemployment and now MORE debt.

Jesus take the wheel.

Turn About

I really love where I live.

That feeling only heightens in the summer time.

Now you’ve heard me piss and moan about trash, my neighbors---both in and out of the association and crime.

And make no mistake all are important factors in the livability of a neighborhood.

But despite all of that, I thank my lucky stars that I actually live within a stone’s throw from the site of the 1893 Columbian Exposition.

The impact of the fair cannot only be read on the pages of The Devil In White City, but also in Jackson Park and it’s lagoons parked off of Lake Michigan.

And as one can expect, that park is teeming with wildlife.

At any given moment I can witness a hustler in the middle of Stony Island selling laundry bags and socks while traffic completely stops to let a family of geese cross.

The urban/suburban juxtaposition boggles the mind.

The fact that you can have an occasional drive by shooting and see a raccoon larger than a dog going through your trash can make for an interesting neighborhood balancing act.

Frankly I think the animals that live by our side are so used to us that they consider us the attraction.

They very well may think that they are living in an open air human habitat in a very large zoo.

Now that I’m the farmer in the ‘hood I get to see just how our wild four legged friends interact with urban gardens and golf balls.

Garden Progress

Tuscany? No, just the entrance to the Urban Garden off the first tee of the Jackson Park Golf Course.


Side shot of the garden.


Garden overview. Those small plants on the outer rim are marigolds. They're supposed to keep the pests away.


Only two of my four collard green plants have really taken off. Check out my huge tomato plant on the far right.


Collard greens close up.


The peppers are starting to take off. They need the warm weather to really start growing.


Mr. Tomato plant.

D-Day

My job ends July 31st.

Unless my contracting company can find me another immediate gig or something miraculous happens, I’m back waitressing.

Paying my bills (and debt) on a waitress gig (again!)---that ought to be interesting.

I so miss having a good FICO score.